


Gotta Hand It to You

by fatlittletoade



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BPD junkrat, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, Minor pain play, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-07-25 22:36:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 36,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7549912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatlittletoade/pseuds/fatlittletoade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roadhog never feels any regret. Mako, however...<br/>What if Roadhog was responsible for Junkrat's lost arm and years down the road when they meet again Roadhog can't help but feel a little guilty and responsible for the garbageman Junkrat has now become</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The Australian outback was known for three things: criminals, dangerous environment, and the heat. In fact Roadhog, before he was Roadhog and used to go by the name of Mako, once read that the continent was colonized with criminals because of the overcrowding prisons in England. It made sense, the only way to break convicts was to take them to the only place harsher and scarier than they were. But Roadhog didn’t have time to read anymore. Ever since the rebellion and fallout something like reading was a luxury and hardly necessary anymore. When people needed something they talked face to face. Letters could be too easily intercepted or changed. 

The explosion had amplified everything wrong with the country. The weather was more extreme, any sources of shade were turned to dust and the heat was unbearable for anything longer than an hour; and on the rare instance it rained the water was acidic and killed the earth it touched (and any unfortunate bastard who couldn’t get to cover). The radiation destroyed any plant life leaving charred and mangled husks of trees and bushes sparsely scattered across the outback and made any survivors sick either in body, mind, or both. 

Some people were born without knowing any other world, a time before the war when the world wasn’t filled with Junkers who knew no better than to slit your throat for a scrap of food or measly pocket change. Things were different now, there were unwritten rules that had to be obeyed and when they weren’t there was retribution. 

Though Roadhog affiliated himself to be a lone wolf of sorts it didn’t stop him from working jobs from time to time. Maintaining enough money to feed and house himself was hard enough, not to mention all the maintenance that went into his bike. And that’s how he found himself crammed into a small room of an abandoned and decaying house with three other Junkers planning a small heist of a nearby hospital. It was a low blow, usually hospitals were considered neutral territory for Junkers considering the many ways one could get hurt living in Junkertown, But the benefits were worth it. Having a monopoly on medication guaranteed copious amounts of money because out there it was either pay or die. They had already raided a back-alley pharmacy one town over and was now looking to expand. And as long as Roadhog got paid there was no heist too big or score too small.

Roadhog heard the commotion before he saw anything. Arguing voices from the room across the hall, swearing, and the telltale crash of chairs being kicked over. Roadhog grunted and stood; he was a man of few words but those around him enough knew how to translate the silence. That particular grunt meant something along the lines of, “I’m checking out whatever the hell is going on.”

The chair he had been sitting on creaking with relief as the massive weight was lifted off it. Working his way past the other three men Roadhog ducked his head through the door and stepped out into the hallway. Outside of the previous room he could now hear the bickering voices more clearly.

“-what you get for trying to steal our shit, you rat!” Roadhog recognized that voice as Ripper, a muscular man with a short crew cut and even shorter temper. He was the one leading the operation and charged himself with watching their current stache because apparently he didn’t trust anyone else to not steal anything. Which in all honestly was good logic. The only one you could ever trust in Junkertown was yourself, and sometimes when the radiation sickness grew too much that wasn’t even true anymore.

“Fuckin’ drongos! The lot of you!” Roadhog paused. That responding voice was far higher than he expected. It wasn’t a woman’s voice which could only mean it belonged to a boy, teenager at most. 

“You’re lucky ya got the ropes on me, otherwise I’d blow this place to kingdom come!” The boy continued to taunt with a loud cackle. “Why don’t ya let me go an’ we can fight proper, ya fuckin’ coward!” Roadhog smirked slightly under his mask. The kid had balls.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Ripper sneered just as Roadhog made his appearance in the doorway. Ripper looked to Roadhog, a grin appearing on his face. “Perfect timing. We got a little rat problem to take care of.” He explained.

Roadhog took in the scene before him. The room wasn’t anything special, decrepit walls and warped floorboards harboring nothing but a singular table with a chair on either side. From the brief time ‘Hog had been with this group it seemed like they used this room for interrogations and torture.There was blood on Ripper’s face which looked to be from a bloody nose, the dried blood painting a trail down his chin and neck. But that didn’t interest Roadhog as much as the boy in the chair next to Ripper. His legs and chest were tied to the chair and his hands were individually bound behind his back, but the finishing touch was the sack placed over his head. Roadhog looked to Ripper, tilting his head slightly in question.

Ripper leaned close to the side of the boy’s head. “This little brat was trying to steal some of our painkillers. Wanna get high and jerk it somewhere, huh kid?” Ripper scoffed, smacking the kid’s head and earning a string of curses from the boy.

“Well,” Ripper continued, ignoring the boy’s outburst and standing up straight. “We could just kill you right now, I’ve done worse and haven’t lost a wink of sleep ‘cause of it.” He chuckled, his own private joke as he most likely reminisced some previous kill or job. “But then again we could punish you and send out back out. Make a cautionary tale outta you... Yeah, I like that better.”

“The fuck you talkin’ ‘bout?” The boy snapped, though Roadhog could practically smell the fear radiating off him. “Just fucking let me go! I… I promise I won’t try to steal nothin’ again! I’ll tell people not to fuck with you guys.”

“Too late, kid.” Ripper pulled out his knife, a long serrated blade that had slit more throats than the Junker could probably count. He lowered it to the rope that bound the boy’s right hand and carelessly cut it and judging by the boy’s whimper he probably cut him a little bit as well. 

“Listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot here, eh mate?” The boy giggled. “C’mon, it’s practically common courtesy to rob from blokes ‘round here. It’s a compliment! Means I like your shit.” Ripper was unimpressed and he forced the kid’s arm out in front of his body and slammed it down on the table as the boy continued to babble. He doesn’t know when to shut up, ‘Hog thought to himself.

“Wait! Wait wait wait, hold on. We ain’t gotta do nothin’.” The boy’s voice was rising in both pitch and volume. Desperation was beginning to set in. “I won’t steal from ya again! Fuck, please, just… I’ll let you do whatever you want. It’s been awhile since ya got your rocks off, am I right?” Another giggle. His voice was extremely grating.

“Shut the fuck up.” Ripper held the knife out to Roadhog, wordlessly telling him to carry out the dirty work of this plan. That aspect wasn’t new, Roadhog was used to carrying out the grunt work either for himself or his employers, seeing as his massive size and strength tended to get any job done.

Roadhog stepped forward and took the knife. The boy heard the movement around him and started squirming, or perhaps the more appropriate word was thrashing. He threw himself around in the chair as best as his bindings would allow forcing Ripper to strengthen his hold on the boy’s arm and the chair itself to prevent it from falling over.

“Quit movin’ or you’ll lose more than an arm!” Ripper warned which only seemed to spur the boy on. 

The boy was screaming now, shrill pleas for his release followed by empty threats, promises, and apologies. It was all bullshit, no one truly felt remorse in the outback. That was how it was supposed to be, but as Roadhog continued to watch the boy struggle he couldn’t help but feel something stirring in him. This was a boy, probably no older than fifteen. He was tall, sure, but impossibly skinny. He was one of the many children born into the destroyed world Roadhog, no Mako, helped create. The boy didn’t know any better. Another time, a time lost years ago, Mako would never have done something like this. But Mako was gone now. There was no home left to try and take back. There was only the world they lived in now and in this world there were rules, one of them being if you steal you can’t get caught.

Roadhog shook his head and moved closer to the table, holding the knife up above his head. The blade was meant for slicing not chopping, if ‘Hog wanted to do this once he had to make it a heavy blow. 

With one heavy swing Roadhog brought the knife down right where the kid’s forearm met with the elbow. There was a sick crunching sound as bone shattered and muscles tore, blood instantly gushing from the wound and on to the table. Roadhog pulled away and flicked his wrist back and forth to get the blood off from both the knife and his hand. The boy shrieked and swore and from the front of his pants ‘Hog could see that he even pissed himself. His pained cries echoed in the room and down the hall and instantly ‘Hog felt regret. If it were an adult he’d have no feeling towards doing something like this, hell he once crushed a man’s skull with his bare hand, but this was a child. ‘Hog couldn’t remember the last time he knowingly harmed a child.

Roadhog looked to Ripper who appeared to be laughing, though it was hard to tell over the screaming. He let go of the disembodied wrist.

“Serves the rat right,” He sneered, looking down at the boy. He had fallen silent, but the still rapid rise and fall of his chest proved he was still alive.

Roadhog merely grunted in reply. Probably passed out from shock. ‘Hog thought.

“Kick him outside, I don’t need him bleedin’ all over everything.” Ripper said dismissively. He strode out of the room and left Roadhog to clean up after the mess.

Roadhog took the knife still in his hand and worked on cutting all the ropes. The same tool to inflict the boy’s punishment was also the same tool to help in his release; the irony wasn’t lost on ‘Hog. 

After the ropes came loose ‘Hog pulled off the sack covering the boy’s head. He assumed right the kid was completely gone, his eyes rolled back in his skull. Roadhog could make out the faintest orange coloring in them, a unique color probably gifted by the radiation or from staring at the sun too long. Either one brought madness. Blond hair was patchy on his head, thick but limply draped on the boy’s head. Roadhog looked to the bleeding stump that was now his arm. He would bleed out if something wasn’t done. 

Roadhog reminded himself again and again that he shouldn’t care as he took a roll of bandages out from his back pocket and started wrapping up the bloody stump. The kid would need a proper doctor, or at least someone capable enough to saw away at the bone and fold skin over to form a closed wound. It wasn’t as though amputees couldn’t function, Roadhog rationalized to himself. Hell, knowing the right kind of people could even get the kid a robotic prosthetic. Plenty of Junkers had those. Roadhog picked up the boy from the chair. It wasn’t hard to hold him because of how skinny he was, but it was slightly awkward to properly gather up all of his long limbs.

Roadhog got curious looks from the other Junkers he passed by on his way outside, but one quick look from ‘Hog and they quickly found interest in the floorboards. Outside the house was a barren wasteland just like the rest of the continent. Setting the kid out in the open would set him up to be mugged or possibly even mercy killed.

‘Hog looked down at the boy, entertaining the thought of killing him. His sleeping face was scrunched up tight in pain, a thin layer of sweat covering his skin and making him clammy to the touch. If allowed to live the boy would know only more struggle, his fight for life even harder than the fellow survivors. ‘Hog could easily crush his windpipe or snap his neck. He would be doing the kid a favor of possibly sending him on to a better place. Roadhog growled at his own indecision, the frustration of it all making him want to punch a hole in a nearest wall. 

Roadhog finally decided on leaving the unconscious body in a back alley in between two empty houses. Odds were the kid would be safe there until he woke up. Then he could figure out what to do with himself. 

“Your own damn fault anyway,” Roadhog said, his deep voice resonating enough to make the boy stir slightly even as Roadhog walked away.

There had once been a time when Roadhog wouldn’t have stood for something like this. Back when he was still Mako. But Mako wouldn’t survive in this world anymore. Roadhog stopped at the end of the alley for a moment, tempted to look back just to make sure the buzzards weren’t picking at the boy just yet. Roadhog growled again and kept walking.


	2. We Meet Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prospect of treasure brings Roadhog to familiar grounds and with it, familiar faces

The only thing to spread faster than radiation in the outback were rumors of big scores. They brought out the meanest and deadliest of Junkers from the shadows and gathering them all up in one area usually lead them to fight amongst themselves in a large bloodbath. It was a fucked up natural order that developed over time. Only the strongest survived fighting for the right to go after a fabled score and where older Junkers died younger ones were quick to replace them and slowly work their way up the ranks. The best way to do that was finding a specialty or skill and sticking to it. Roadhog had a variety of skills, one of them being the fact that he was big. Granted that wasn’t so much of a skill as it was genetic luck but it didn’t stop Roadhog from using it to his advantage. Whenever there were any kind of fights people were always hesitant to attack him simply because he was such an intimidating target to try and take down, and whenever they finally mustered up the courage to finally charge him it would take one throw from ‘Hog’s hook or shot from his scrap gun to end it. He didn’t even mind getting his hands dirty, so to speak, taking on foes bare handed and feeling their bones crack under his knuckles and warm blood spray over his skin. He reveled in moments like that. Roadhog was a self proclaimed one-man apocalypse and had every right to that title.

When Roadhog heard of the treasure he was stopped at a gas station filling up his bike. He stuck by it to prevent any type of theft (as if anyone dared after seeing him roll up with that bike) but was able to overhear the conversation two women were having near the door of the gas station.

“It’s some kid who knows where it is. Found it in the omnium.” The woman wore tattered pants and a leather jacket decorated in patches functioning as both decoration and patches for any kind of holes. She looked old enough to have lived before the blast but it had clearly taken a toll on her, her skin tanned and covered in lighter colored scars.

“Has to be dafter than most to go down there,” Her companion replied with a shake of her head. She was younger but looked no less experienced. She had a patch covering her right eye and her hair was buzzed short. “Place is another explosion waitin’ to happen.”

“Yeah, but whatever’s down there got everyone in a tizzy.” The first woman countered. “Supposedly worth more than you can imagine.”

“No point riskin’ a trip to Junkertown to die for some treasure I ain’t ever seen. Let some other dumb blokes have at it until they tucker themselves out. Rather get a bunch of smaller scores I can get my hands on.”

Roadhog couldn’t deny that he was interested. It had been some time since a score gathered enough credibility to travel outside of the town it was in and almost always stories like those had some truth to them. If there was something still out there the omnium would be a good place for it to hide; the woman was right the omnium was a death trap waiting to happen. Roadhog wouldn’t dare go in there himself, he wasn’t a man for finesse that a job like that would require. But if someone had been in the omnium before and knew the location of the treasure then ‘Hog was sure he could convince them to bring it to him. If part of convincing required him to get physical well that was just how it had to be. He was more of a man of action than words anyway.

As soon as the bike was full of gas Roadhog mounted it and started off west. Junkertown was about a day’s ride away if he remembered it right. The wasteland was barren in almost all directions, the occasional ruins of buildings, rock formations, or shrapnel from the omnium to break up the monotony. It gave Roadhog the rare treat of letting his mind wander and not constantly be on the alert for potential threats.

‘Hog had not visited Junkertown in years, in fact it was probably a little over a decade since his last arrival. The last time he had been there it was for a relatively small job stealing drugs from nearby hospitals. It had been simple enough, the Junkers he worked with as crazy and malicious as any other. Except Ripper, he was a step above the common Junker. Thinking back to Ripper is what brought the memory of the boy back to Roadhog. Perhaps thinking back on something so long ago dramatized the actual event, but Roadhog could vividly picture the impossibly skinny boy bound helpless in the chair of that empty room. The boy’s grating voice echoed in ‘Hog’s mind but it wasn’t nearly as loud as the screaming. The agonized cries of a child in pain as Roadhog chopped off his arm with a hunting knife. He had begged for freedom and Roadhog had dumped his unconscious and bleeding body at the end of an alley.

Roadhog didn’t notice himself veering off course until his bike gave a dangerous jerk to the left, jostling ‘Hog out of his memories. Roadhog grunted and forced the handlebars back in the right direction. He hadn’t thought of that boy in years but it was suddenly so fresh in his mind it was as if it happened earlier that day. Did the boy make it? How did he manage with a missing limb? Was he still in Junkertown or was he long gone?

Roadhog took a deep breath. It didn’t do well to dwell in the past. Anything that wasn’t focusing on what was happening right now meant certain death. What happened to the boy happened and if Roadhog didn’t cut off his arm someone else would have done it. Probably. Or shot the kid in the mouth to get him to shut him up.

A couple more hours of riding and the sun had vanished over the horizon. It wouldn’t do to drive in the darkness of night and accidentally go off course without even knowing it. With the faint moonlight as Roadhog’s guide he found a small shack just big enough to fit himself and his bike into. Roadhog took off his bedroll from the back of his bike and splayed it out on the ground before laying down on it. One of the downsides to travelling alone was that there wasn’t the option to sleep in shifts and have a lookout ready to sound the alarms in case they came under attack or raid. But Roadhog prided himself on being a light and sporadic sleeper, getting up at the smallest sound or once every two hours or so. Keeping his mask on Roadhog settled in on his back, his fingers interlacing on top of his stomach. Within seconds of closing his eyes Roadhog slipped off into sleep, his dreams tormented by high pitched wails of agony.

Roadhog had arrived at Junkertown in the middle of the afternoon and stashed his bike behind an abandoned building, chained thoroughly to a wall with a convenient hole in it. As he walked out into the empty street he surveyed the town. If it were possible for Junkertown to get even more seedy then it certainly happened. Every single window in the buildings that were still standing were boarded up and various painted warnings and crude messages were scrawled on the walls. The dry earth was cracked and crunched beneath Roadhog’s boots with every step. Almost no one was outside and those who were had either a weapon in hand or on their immediate person. Even the air itself seemed filled with a sense of malcontent that Roadhog’s mask couldn’t filter. Of course none of this phased Roadhog, nothing could ever scare him anymore. As odds usually had it when Roadhog went anywhere he ended up being the scariest bloke in the place.

There weren’t many signs up; ever since the omnium fallout survival became paramount to all else and that included reading and writing. Illiteracy was hardly a problem though as almost nobody wrote anything down past the warnings messily painted or carved on the walls of any buildings left standing. But eventually ‘Hog came across a building with a small sign hanging from the roof above the doorway depicting a bottle of alcohol. Bars were as risky as they were beneficial. Alcohol around the outback was a rarity since most of the earth went sour but some people had enough connections to get things imported to sell in places like this. It was the strong stuff, high ethanol content because of how hard it was to get. The quicker you got drunk the less alcohol you needed. It took away any type of inhibition and that was just what Roadhog was looking for. If he were to find out anything about some fabled treasure it would be here.

The inside of the bar was a stark contrast to the outside. As soon as Roadhog ducked his head and stepped in he was instantly bombarded with sound. The loudest and most obvious were all the Junkers trying to talk over each other at once, some were laughing and enjoying their company while others were on their feet and in someone’s face ready to start swinging at a moment’s notice. Roadhog settled down at an empty table, the chair creaking in protest but staying strong under ‘Hog’s massive weight. The key to finding out about treasure was never directly asking about it. In order to get what he needed Roadhog settled into his chair and listened around him for the right kind of conversation.

Discerning the wall of noise surrounding him was challenging at first but as Roadhog continued to listen there were the softer sounds that began sticking out from the chaos of the room. There was a guitar being played in the corner of the room. It was a somber and slow tune and from where Roadhog sat he could only make out the higher pitched chords. ‘Hog could also make out the sound of glasses hitting tables as people drank. It was harder to hone in on specific conversations but if ‘Hog really focused then he could make out bits and pieces of what people were saying.

“-just oil it regularly and it shouldn’t be givin’ ya any trouble no more.” _No._

“I jus’ can’t seem to reload the damn thing fast ‘nough.” _Possibly, but probably not._

“So I says to him you can suck it ‘cause I wo-” _NO._

“Oi, you’re a big, mean lookin’ cunt ain’t ya? Hello?”

It took Roadhog a moment to realize one of those voices was directed at him. ‘Hog pulled his focus back to himself to find a Junker had sat himself at the chair right across the table. He was young, half his age if ‘Hog had to guess, but like everyone else life had not been kind to him simply because of his youth. The young man was covered in light scars and some kind of soot centralized on his hands and upper body making his face dark with only his bright eyes and patchy blond hair as contrast. And was his hair… smoking? Surely that was some trick of the lighting.

“Are you daft, mate?” He asked with a tilt of his head. “Ya don’t look it though I guess it could be all that stuff ‘bout brains and brawn, roight?” When he grinned it was wide and ‘Hog could make out at least two gold teeth. “Name’s Junkrat.”

Roadhog didn’t reply. He wasn’t afraid of throwing this annoying child across the room if need be but the whole point of ‘Hog being here was to be inconspicuous and wait for any sign pointing him towards the treasure, and if ‘Hog shot a boy through the wall on the other end of the bar it might cause a bit of a lull in conversation.

“Not a man of many words then, eh? Fair ‘nough. Your mouth all fucked up ‘neath that mask or somethin’?” Junkrat wiggled his hands at Roadhog in some kind of gesture connoting the state of his face. That’s when Roadhog noticed one of the boy’s arms was robotic, an attachment starting at his elbow and an orange color as obnoxious as the rest of him.

Hog must have given himself away by looking at the arm because the man followed his line of sight and grinned. “Real beaut’ ain’t it? Keep it updated myself.” He seemed to be proud of that but from what ‘Hog could see the arm was close to being scrap.

“Yeah,” He continued, looking down at his arm and turning his hand front to back slowly. “Real tale how I got it. Wanna hear it?”

“No,” Roadhog replied, but it didn’t seem to matter. Junkrat went off on some supposedly harrowing story that seemed to have no end. Without all the unnecessary asides and cackling the story essentially was about him sneaking into a bandit camp and stealing 10 million dollars from the bandits which apparently led to a massive chase through an old town.

“I was throwin’ my bombs left an’ right tryin’ to get them off my tail, collapsin’ whole buildings an’ usin’ the rubble an’ smoke as cover. It was a right shame I didn’t have time to marvel at my own work but priorities, ya know? I was keepin’ good distance on ‘em ‘cause back then I still had my good leg but then I rounded a wrong corner into a dead end.” Junkrat lowered his voice to try and add suspense but Roadhog was not impressed.

“So I try turnin’ ‘round but by the time I get there the bandits was waitin’ for me. Right nasty cunts they were, all muscle no brain. Uh, no offense to ya, mate.” Roadhog merely grunted.

“Anyways I try an’ fight ‘em off but they don’t fight fair. All of ‘em went for me at once. I didn’t go down easy, I bit off a couple of fingers from when they tried to grab at me. Even got a good swing in an’ broke a nose.” More laughter, a high pitched giggle that made Junkrat’s whole body shake.

“They took me back to their camp an’ tied me up real tight while they figured out what to do to me. They even put a bag on my head. It wasn’t hard to think of somethin’ even for a bunch of brainless bandits. If ya steal, the hand comes off.” Junkrat shrugged. "But ya can bet your arse it takes more than that to kill me! After they dumped me I popped right back up an' went on as usual."

‘Hog froze. Before he could even really think ‘Hog found himself asking, “How old were you?”

Getting more than one word out of him must have excited Junkrat because he visibly perked up, sitting up straight in his chair with a wicked grin on his face.

“Fifteen.”

_Oh fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gasp! The big plot twist that everyone knew was coming!  
> Well I guess I'll keep going with this since no one has directly said they hated it yet! Even so I'd love to hear any feedback you guys have :)  
> Once again this headcanon is from Skepsiss! You guys should check them out here or on tumblr, their username is the same


	3. The Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roadhog really needs to listen to himself more

Junkrat beats out an erratic rhythm on the table with his hands. “Listen mate, this conversation is stimulatin’ an’ all but I came here to get plastered an’ I’m gonna do just that.” Junkrat winked at ‘Hog as he stood. “Be right back, yeah?”

Roadhog watched Junkrat hobble away towards the bar, noticing for the first time the pegleg replacing Junkrat’s right leg. At least Roadhog wasn’t responsible for that.

But was this really the same child as before? ‘Hog’s mind was reeling to try and think of every detail from that day years ago. Junkrat didn’t recall everything correctly; it had been medicine not 10 million dollars, there was no bandit camp, and had there been any explosions? Roadhog didn’t remember hearing any. Though it wasn’t uncommon for Junkers to swap exaggerated stories embellishing details to make them sound better. But the broken nose, bag over his head, and punishment were all echoes of the true event.

Roadhog looked back to the bar, finding Junkrat babbling to the bartender who had a look on his face like he’d sooner shove a bottle of alcohol up Junkrat’s ass before serving it to him. Junkrat had the blond hair, orange eyes, and he would be the right age. But surely he couldn’t be the same child from all those years ago. It was too much of a coincidence. Roadhog had been certain that God mocked him before but it was never this forthright.

Emotions buried long ago began to resurface within Roadhog, feeling he never thought he’d experience in the wasteland of the outback. It had been so long since he felt such things that it took him a moment to even identify what they were. Perhaps the most shocking emotion he was experiencing was what he could only name as guilt. It burned in his chest as if he had been shot point blank with a shotgun, his throat tight and head aching.

 _This is punishment for what you did to that boy._ ‘Hog’s mind supplied. _Do right and make up for what you did to him._

Roadhog buried his head in his hands, a low growl rumbling in the back of his throat. Feeling like this was infuriating. He didn’t owe Junkrat anything, not a single damn thing. Even if he was the same boy then it was his own damn fault for stealing and getting caught.

“Ya ‘kay, mate?” Roadhog jerked his head up at the sound of Junkrat’s voice to see the other man taking his seat across from him once again with a bottle of alcohol in each hand.

Roadhog dropped his hands down on to the table, frowning at Junkrat from behind his mask. “Don’t you have anything better to do than annoy me?”

“Nope.” Junkrat popped the ‘p’ in unison with opening one of the bottles. After it was open he set it aside and tucked the other one into the pocket of his pants.

Curiosity got the better of Roadhog. “What are you doing?”

Junkrat glanced up at ‘Hog, looking confused for a moment. “What? Oh, I’m keepin’ one for myself. Ethanol’s too good to waste, burns up real nice an’ bright.”

Roadhog didn’t reply but that didn’t seem to bother Junkrat anymore. ‘Rat raised the open bottle as some form of acknowledgment to Roadhog and threw back his head as he chugged the bottle as if it were water. With each gulp Roadhog watched the contents of the bottle lower inch by inch until it was all gone. Junkrat pulled the bottle away from his lips with a loud gasp for air followed by his manic cackle.

“Impressive, ain’t it?” He winked at ‘Hog. “The trick is to not let yourself breathe until it’s all gone, otherwise ya’ll never finish it in one go.” Roadhog didn’t ask what the trick was but it seemed that Junkrat was one to overshare.

Seeing Junkrat’s put Roadhog on edge. This man before him was the embodiment of the humanity Roadhog had lost long ago. ‘Hog hated seeing Junkrat’s face when all he could imagine was a childish face contorted in pain, hated his voice when ‘Hog could still hear the begs for mercy rattling around in his skull, and most of all Roadhog hated that orange arm. The bright color was just another jab at Roadhog, forcing his eyes to be drawn towards the manifestation of all the mistakes he’s ever made. Roadhog wanted to rip it off and crush it under his boot, though that would most likely amplify his guilt. _Guilt._ It was sickening to even accept that was what he was feeling.

“Ah, that’s a good buzz.” Junkrat sighed and leaned back in his chair, pushing it back until it was balancing on the back two legs. “You get any of that?” With his real hand Junkrat gestures behind him to the bar. “It’s the best place to get the stuff ‘round here. Where ya from anyway, ‘cause I know it ain’t from here. I know everyone in this town and you ain’t one of them.”

Junkrat leaned over the table to try and get a closer look at Roadhog, tilting his head to one side as he peered up at the mask separating Roadhog’s face from the rest of the world. “Why do ya even use that thing? Air ain’t that bad yet. Or can ya not breathe well ‘cause you’re so fat?” He leaned over more to the point he was almost laying across the table. But it was when he tried to reach out for the mask with his robotic arm did Roadhog take action.

Roadhog grabbed Junkrat’s arm and slammed it down on the table with so much force he was certain he heard the wood splinter underneath Junkrat’s arm. Junkrat nearly fell off the table from the sudden movement.

“Oi! I wasn’t gonna take it ya paranoid heifer! My brain ain’t so fried I think I can snatch somethin’ right off your face!” Junkrat tried to pull his arm out from Roadhog’s hand but ‘Hog only tightened the grip. If he really wanted to Roadhog could live out his fantasy about ripping off the offensive limb; Junkrat seemed to have the same idea and became a little more frantic with his pulling. He slipped off the table and threw his weight back with every desperate tug. “Ease off it, you’ll break somethin’!” Junkrat snapped at Roadhog.

The rest of the bar was starting to get quiet as people forwent their conversations in favor of watching the scene taking place at Roadhog’s table. Attention was the last thing ‘Hog needed and he promptly released Junkrat’s arm. Junkrat must have been pulling back at that moment because he flew backwards and landed hard on his back.

“Shit!” He groaned, slowly rising to his feet and wincing when he straightened out his back. “I didn’t do nothin’, ya bastard.”

It seemed that Roadhog’s display of strength was what it took to discourage Junkrat. He shot a dirty look at ‘Hog and limped off towards the door.

As the bar began to fill with noise once again Roadhog felt pleased with himself. He finally got that kid off his back and hopefully out of his life for good. Underneath his mask ‘Hog smirked to himself. Things were finally going his way. For about 3 seconds.

Across the room ‘Hog noticed two men nod at one another and stood up together. They quickly crossed the room and went out the door as Junkrat did and as Roadhog followed them with his eyes he noticed them reach back and each pull out a gun tucked in the back of their pants before heading out the door.

Fuck. It was too much of a coincidence that they just happened to leave the same time Junkrat did. Of course that annoying brat had some kind of bounty on his head, of fucking course.

 _This shouldn’t be our concern._ Roadhog told himself. Junkrat wasn’t some helpless kid anymore, he was a grown man with functioning limbs (prosthetic or otherwise) and a pocket full of ethanol in which Roadhog guessed he had every intention of using in a molotov cocktail. He didn’t need any assistance taking out two armed bounty hunters, At Junkrat’s age he probably had a high body-count like most everyone in the wasteland. He would be _fine._

Oh how Roadhog wished he listened to himself.

Outside of the bar not much changed from when Roadhog was previously outside. The sun hung a little lower in the sky but it was no less hot and just as empty. But the emptiness was useful when trying to find someone. In the quiet of the abandoned outdoors Roadhog followed the sound of shouting down the street and around a corner to find Junkrat cornered into an alley with both men slowly encroaching upon him. From his story earlier Roadhog would have assumed Junkrat would have learned to avoid alleys.

Roadhog took his hook in hand and threw it down the alley up over the man on the right. He barely had time to register what was thrown above him before it came swinging down and curled around his neck. Nails hammered into the end of the hook pierced his neck, securing him in place as Roadhog pulled the hook back and the bounty hunter with it. With the force of the hook Roadhog didn’t need to hear the snap of the bounty hunter’s neck to know he was dead.

His partner shouted and rounded on Roadhog, not taking the time to aim his gun before firing. A few bullets ricochet off the brick walls of the alley but all of them miss Roadhog. It seemed that Junkrat had been waiting for the right distraction because the next thing that happens is a flaming bottle of alcohol being thrown through the air and colliding with the leather jacket the bounty hunter wore. The sound of broken glass was buried underneath screams of pain as the man was quickly engulfed in a roaring flame. He tried to get his jacket off but it was too late, the alcohol had gotten on his skin and head and hair burned so easy.

The bounty hunter fell to the ground, the pain immobilizing him as the flames peeled away layers of skin, leaving charred masses of black charcoal to fall from his decaying body. Cries of agony slowly dwindled into nothing, death finally releasing the bounty hunter from his glimpse of hell.

A small giggle slipped out from Junkrat and it quickly blossomed into peals of laughter. Junkrat clutched his stomach with one hand and braced himself on the wall with the other.

“Fuckin’ serves those bleedin’ cunts right!” He gasped in between his fits of laughter. “Oh what a way to waste some perfectly good ethanol! Nice an’ bright like I thought! Didn’t I tell ya it’d be somethin’ to behold?” Junkrat make a ‘whoosh’ing sound meant to imitate the sound of fire, his hands popping open simultaneously before he went back to his giggling.

Roadhog grunted and with the flick of his wrist the other bounty hunter was thrown off his hook and onto the ground. His head was leaning back at an odd angle and his glassy eyes stared in front of him at nothing. The nails from ‘Hog’s hook had left holes in his neck which allowed a steady flow of blood to pour out on the the dirt, the starved soil quickly absorbing it.

Roadhog looked back at Junkrat who seemed to finally be collecting himself from his brief moment of uncontrollable cackling. He was inspecting the dead body that was really more of a burnt skeleton than it was a corpse. If ‘Rat was expecting to find anything on him he would be disappointed.

“Eh, I guess there ain’t nothin’ to collect.” Junkrat shrugged, confirming Roadhog’s looting theory. “What ‘bout your bloke? Gun worth anythin’?”

Roadhog didn’t know why he was so surprised to have Junkrat address him but it did. ‘Hog looked down at the bleeding body at his feet, assessing him for anything that could possibly be worth something.

“Gun’s handmade. Better for scrap.” Roadhog grunted, tucking his hook away. “Silver necklace on him, though.”

“Oh! Gimme!” Junkrat burst forward and dropped to his knees, not a care in the world as his pants became soaked in blood.

As Junkrat tried to retrieve the necklace from around the dead bounty hunter (“Bloke’s got a head like a fuckin’ boulder!”) Roadhog took it as an opportunity to quietly make his getaway. Unfortunately he barely got two steps out of the alley before catching Junkrat’s attention.

“Oi, where ya off to in such a big hurry?” Junkrat asked, sliding past Roadhog to get in front of him. As if the answer wasn’t clear, there was no point in ‘Hog staying. It was enough of a favor that Roadhog had intervened in the fight at all.

Junkrat seemed to guess that because the next thing he said was, “Right, I know. But how can ya walk away after a display like that? Me an’ you, we make a bloody brilliant team!”

_Except I want nothing to do with you. I hate being reminded of your existence and what I did to you._

“Aw, c’mon! Don’t act like that wasn’t fun!” Junkrat whined and folded his arms over his skinny chest.

Roadhog started walking again but Junkrat didn’t let up. Roadhog’s slow walk was a perfect match for Junkrat’s uneven gait, another annoying example of how well they seemed to work together.

If Roadhog was being completely honest with himself ‘Rat did have a bit of a point. Where Roadhog was slow Junkrat was fast, where Roadhog left silence Junkrat filled with (annoying) noise. And even that small skirmish in the alley had been enough fun to shake off the cobwebs from days of riding. But that wasn’t enough to convince Roadhog to frequently associate with his living and breathing shame.

“What if I paid you?” Now that was a prospect Roadhog could get a little bit more behind. Roadhog slowed his walking to a halt and waited for Junkrat to continue.

“That got your attention, didn’t it?” Junkrat grinned, flashing his crooked teeth. “That’s right, I can pay ya for your trouble. I got this treasure that’s hidden away real safe, no one knows where it is but me! I found it in the omnium an’ no one is smart enough to dig in there!” Or dumb en- wait did ‘Rat mention a treasure?

“How much are we talking about, here?” Roadhog crossed his arms, trying to sound aloof about it.

Junkrat’s eyes gleamed. “More than ya could ever spend in this lifetime. 50/50 if ya jus' agree to be my bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard?” Roadhog repeated.

“Listen, this treasure has made me quite the celebrity, an’ I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout the fun kind of celebrity. Those blokes we killed were part of hundreds of others who want me to hand over my treasure an’ ain’t afraid of bein’ not so friendly.” Junkrat sounded as serious as Roadhog had ever seen him be.

“You’re the biggest, baddest guy I’ve ever seen in my life. I could piss myself jus’ by lookin’ at ya if I had enough in me.” Roadhog assumed Junkrat meant that as a compliment.

“So whatta ya say there, mate?” Junkrat held out his robotic hand. “We got ourselves an arrangement?”

Roadhog looked down at Junkrat’s hand. Junkrat was completely unaware of the significance behind it. But maybe, just maybe, mind blowing riches would be worth the emotional trauma.

Roadhog reached out and took Junkrat’s hand, ‘Rat’s hand fitting easily in Roadhog’s palm alone. The metal was hot against his skin, almost as if it was real and not some scrapped-together prosthetic.  
Roadhog shook Junkrat’s hand firmly. “You got yourself a deal, boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang this chapter was weirdly hard to write for some reason, but I love writing it! All your comments are so nice it's so encouraging ;v;  
> The next chapter might take a little longer because work is crazy for me this week but I'll try to get it out asap!


	4. Two Junkers One Seat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Transportation problems and a whiny Junkrat  
> I'd like to apologize for the chapter title it was the first thing I thought of and I have 0 impulse control

“Shit, mate! That’s quite a ride ya got there!” Junkrat ran to Roadhog’s bike, jumping up on to the worn leather seat. 

“Ya know,” Junkrat pushed himself forward to lean over the handlebars, admiring the underside of the bike while blood rushed to his head. “I bet ya feel like a total badass drivin’ this thing ‘round the Outback. Oh yes, I can get used to this.”

Roadhog reached out and grabbed Junkrat by the belt, yanking him off the bike. Junkrat voiced his complaints with a few choice swears, flailing about in the air but when Roadhog held ‘Rat away from his body all the kicking and swinging did the smaller man no good.

“You don’t drive.” Roadhog growled, squeezing the belt until his knuckles were white.

Junkrat huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why do ya gotta be like that? You’re talkin’ to the fella who built a motorized tire bomb an’ used it to blow out the steel door to a vault in a bank!”

“That’s exactly why you don’t get to drive it.” Roadhog replied.

Junkrat either didn’t hear him or didn’t care because he kept right on talking. “Which actually reminds me, we gotta swing by my place so I can get all my stuff. It’s tucked away all snug like in the basement of some collapsed shack outside of town. We’re gonna need somewhere for me to store all my stuff too. It’s in a duffle besides my tire, but that gets strapped right on my back.”

Roadhog lets go of Junkrat’s belt, letting him fall to the ground with a grunt of pain and cloud of dust.

Junkrat raised his head up from the dirt to glare up at Roadhog. “Ya can be a right bastard, ya know that?” He huffed.

Junkrat stood and brushed the dirt off himself, though it seemed to have no effect on the soot covering most of his body. “I don’t think I ever caught your name, by the way.”

“It’s Roadhog.”

“Roadhog, eh? Explains the pig. And the ink, too!” Junkrat pokes the ‘nose’ of the tattoo on Roadhog’s stomach with his robotic hand as he giggled. Roadhog hated the fact that Junkrat had touched him with it and smacked ‘Rat’s hand away.

“Don’t make me shoot you.” Roadhog warned. He walked up to his bike and started working on undoing the chains he wrapped around the bike for security. Junkrat watched Roadhog work with increasing anxiety. He fidgeted from foot to foot, or rather foot to pegleg, the longer Roadhog took.

Junkrat let out an exaggerated sigh of relief when the bike was finally free. “Blimey, ya take your sweet time don’tcha?”

Roadhog didn’t waste his breath to reply. He simply mounted the bike, easing into the seat which long ago had conformed to the shape of his body. He kept the bike upright by keeping one foot planted on the ground but without warning Junkrat leaped up onto Junkrat’s back threatening to knock them both over with the momentum.

“The hell is wrong with you?” Roadhog snapped, glancing over his shoulder to look at Junkrat.

Junkrat tightly gripped Roadhog by the straps of his shoulder pads. “It ain’t my fault ya hog the whole damn chopper! Heh, hog. But still!”

“Shut up.” Roadhog shuffled forward as much as he could to give Junkrat enough space behind him to actually sit on the seat rather than dig his bony fingers and legs into ‘Hog’s back. Junkrat caught the hint and lets go of Roadhog, sliding down his back and landing hard on the back of the seat.

“Right. This ain’t gonna work long term. I can’t even get my bloody arms ‘round ya!” Roadhog was sure Junkrat was pouting but from their seating arrangement ‘Hog couldn’t see him. That made him even less tempted to try and add something for Junkrat to sit on.

“I’m jus’ sayin’ Hoggie, unless ya want me unintentionally rubbin’ against ya for hours on end, ya might want to invest in at least a sidecar. Unless you got some kinda pouch in that massive gut of yours in which case I’ll play the joey.” Junkrat laughed at his own joke, smacking Roadhog’s back jovially.

Roadhog hated to admit that the rat had a point. “We’ll stop by the next scrap site we find.” He conceded, “And if you call me that again I’ll rip your lips off.” The threat did nothing to dampen the joy of Junkrat’s victory and sound of Junkrat’s childish cheering was drowned out as the engine of Roadhog’s bike roared to life.

Getting Junkrat’s belongings took them a little over an hour to accomplish. It would have gone faster if Junkrat didn’t think every pile of rubble they came across was the wrecked shed where he stashed his things. The echoes of Junkrat’s blindly confident exclamations still rattled in Roadhog’s brain. “It’s right there!” “Nah, that’s n- WAIT YES IT IS!” “Are you blind or what, I’m pointin’ to that pile over there!”

The kid didn’t own much, no one around here did. When he came out from the trap door hidden underneath the desecrated shack he held nothing but a half full duffle bag which from the clanking sounds inside was filled with whatever equipment that wasn’t now strapped to his chest rather than any personal effects. Then there was the tire. It was probably from some sort of large truck and then crafted by Junkrat into a spiked and motorized bomb of destruction. It probably weighed over 100 pounds but Junkrat didn’t break his hobbled stride carrying it around. The kid looked ready to go to war and ‘Hog had to respect that a little bit.

“I’ve been thinkin’,” Junkrat begins. “I wanna get off this piss covered rock. The big game is out there,” Junkrat throws his arms out. “The rest of the world needs to be put in their place, don’tcha think? They’ve had it too good for too long with their fancy suits, muckin’ ‘bout with their wide smiles an’ clean hands. Never known hardship, any of ‘em. Did ya know in some places they still allow omnics to jus’ wander ‘bout in the open? With people ‘round an’ everythin’!” Junkrat wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue in disgust.

Roadhog simply stared at Junkrat as he rambled, wondering when he could get to the point. When Junkrat met ‘Hog’s gaze he somehow seemed to understand. “I’m gettin’ there, Jesus.” He huffed.

“My point bein’ is that there ain’t no better crew to deliver some righteous punishment than us. I’m obviously the brain an’ you’re the brawn! Together we can stick it to all the suits an’ omnic scrap heaps! Not to mention us gettin’ whatever we damn well like from the ashes of it all.” Roadhog hummed, a low rumble deep in his chest that was akin to the roar of his bike’s engine, he liked that last part.

“I say we go north, the northest we can go ‘til we can’t go no further. Then we take the nearest plane or boat off this shit-show to anywhere in the world!”

A little vague, but they had a couple weeks to figure out the specifics. With Junkrat’s incessant rambling about everything that came to his mind it would only be a matter of time before the scrawny junker spewed out something that could be used as a plan. It probably wouldn’t be a _good_ plan but it could pave the way to something better. For now, they had the north. Long ago this sort of cross country trip could be as short as two days of determined driving, but everything was different now. Limited resources such as gas, food, water, and shelter created the threat of being stranded and dead soon after if the Outback felt generous.

Roadhog started his bike again and Junkrat took the hint to jump back on to the part of the seat in the back that Roadhog had so graciously left open for him. Scrawny arms wrapped around as much of Roadhog’s back as he could reach, his fingers digging into the supple flesh just enough to be irritating. Roadhog issued a low growl in warning and released the clutch on the motorcycle, kicking his leg up as the bike started forward. A wake of exhaust and dust trailed behind them as they left Junkertown in the shrinking horizon.

\-----

Finding scrap was easy but finding the right scrap was hard. The two Junkers had found at least ten places out in the wasteland that had gathered up enough scrap to be worthy of searching (or rather scavenging because they had no intention of trying to pay or barter for the parts they needed) but came up short almost everywhere they went. The one thing they managed to find was a thin tire with spikes adorning the ends of the axel. Junkrat had adoringly clutched the tire to his chest and let out a giddy cackle, stomping his feet on the ground with glee. Roadhog watched the display with a perturbed expression hidden underneath the impassive mask he wore. Junkrat wasn’t innocent, innocence was practically taken away by the Outback at birth, but there was a certain childlike quality Junkrat seemed to embody. His eagerness, the constant talking paired with a lack of self control was something normal kids usually had.

 _Naive,_ Roadhog’s mind supplied. _Sincere._ Junkrat was pure with everything he did. His actions all came from his base instinct and emotions and there was something to be said about that. Roadhog found himself smiling, despite everything Roadhog had done to ‘Rat it seemed like he was still able to find joy, no matter how twisted the action that happiness came from. As Junkrat loaded himself back on the bike he kept the new tire in his hand as the other gripped Roadhog’s belt for security and they set off again.

Coming across a junkyard had been simply by chance. Roadhog had seen a patch of darkness in the horizon and changed course to pursue it. At the time he thought it could be an old warehouse or even a patch of withered trees, any cover would be welcome as the sun set and the cold desert air began to set in. As they got closer the form became clearer, the large piles of scrap and abandoned vehicles piled together and waiting to collect rust. A small house had been built next to the mountains of metal, barely big enough for one person to live comfortably inside it.

Roadhog parked the bike and tucked it away behind a small pile of metal plates which Junkrat was eagerly inspecting. Junkrat was so busy looking over a domed piece of metal that he almost didn’t notice Roadhog walking off towards the house.

“Oi! Where ya think you’re wanderin’ off to?” Junkrat snapped.

Roadhog glanced back and drew his gun, nodding his head towards the house. Junkrat grinned and nodded back in understanding.

“I get ya. We pretty much announced our arrival with that chopper of yours, too.” Junkrat started unhooking one of the bombs from his chest and Roadhog snorted to catch ‘Rat’s attention. The point of going in the house was to procure a shelter, the type of shelter that would work better if it wasn’t blown to bits.

Junkrat huffed and secured the bomb back on his chest. “Right, right. But I better get to blow up somethin’ soon or I’ll go off the deep end.” Too late, but that could be left unsaid.

Roadhog flipped off the safety to his scrap gun and pushed the door open with his other hand. Junkrat slipped inside first, checking the surroundings with his superior speed. From the doorway there was a hallway with doorways on both the left and right leading off into different rooms. Roadhog’s body nearly took up the entire hallway which put him on edge and itching to shoot something; ‘Hog didn’t like feeling confined.

Junkrat crept down the hall and peeked his head into every room, the lack of doors making his espionage that much easier. When he peeked his head into the last room on the left he quickly jerked it back and waved his arm to get Roadhog’s attention.

“An old bloke is in here! Fast asleep.” Junkrat whispered as Roadhog approached. Roadhog slipped his head in to take a look for himself. The rat was right, on a tiny bed was a frail old man, his rattling breath audible in the silence of the room. Roadhog had no qualms lifting his gun and firing it right at the bald and spotted head.

“Shit, ‘Hog!” Junkrat jumped as the gun went off. “Warn a guy next time!” Roadhog said nothing, he simply looked at the shredded and bleeding form that lay mutilated and dead on the bed. Maybe it would have been a good idea to remove him from the bed before shooting him.

Though Junkrat was eager to gather the parts for his sidecar Roadhog kept a tight grip on his shoulder that prevented the younger man from sneaking off outside.

“Sleep now, building later.” Roadhog merely said when Junkrat started to pitch a fit.

“Fine, fine, but ya got first watch! Rattlin’ ‘round on your bike while holdin’ on for dear life can drain a fellow.” Junkrat said with a pout. They had brought all of their belongings in after they had killed the owner of the house and Junkrat had practically snacthed the bedroll off of the bike before Roadhog could even reach for it. ‘Hog had intended on taking the first watch anyway so he didn’t particularly care.

Roadhog watched as Junkrat settled down on the floor, sighing heavily as his body started to relax against the bedroll.

“Your prosthetics.” Roadhog reminded in a low rumble.

Junkrat cracked open one of his eyes to examine Roadhog. “If it’s all the same to ya, I’m gonna keep ‘em on.”

It was obvious that to a certain degree Junkrat did not trust Roadhog, at least not enough to render himself completely defenseless around him. Smart kid, it was thinking like that that must have kept him alive all those years. Roadhog crossed the room to the door, ready to step outside and keep watch. But just before crossing the threshold something possessed him to look back.

“Your limbs will ache.” Roadhog warned. “Either take off the prosthetics or don’t bitch about the pain tomorrow.”  
Junkrat grumbled and waved ‘Hog off dismissively but when Roadhog left the room he could hear the sound of metal and the clicking of wires disengaging from where flesh met machine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in this chapter! I know exactly which direction I want to take this fic but with work and school coming up things might take longer than they used to. I hope to crank out a chapter at least once a week though!  
> Thank you to everyone for your nice comments/kudos, it means a lot!!


	5. A Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remembering is much easier than forgetting

Roadhog had lived a long life, and with it came many experiences that could only be gained by going through life. Though it occasionally struck Roadhog that his life and the knowledge he obtained from it was a little different from the average person, but living in the wasteland the kind of knowledge he did have was invaluable. For instance, when Roadhog was awakened the next morning by a loud thundering sound and the whole building he was in shook and dust fell from the rafters, Roadhog knew it was from an explosion.

Slightly disoriented by the exploding wakeup call Roadhog scrambled up on to his feet, grabbing his hook which he kept right beside him. Within seconds he switched modes from sleep to battle-ready, his blood thrumming in his ears from the potential of a fight. It had become routine to fight for your life and ‘Hog rarely had to think of it anymore. His body and muscle memory would take over, his enemies falling dead at his feet before Roadhog had to give the situation a second thought. He was so used to his routine that for a moment Roadhog had completely forgotten that he was no longer travelling alone until he was halfway out the door. Roadhog stopped himself and backtracked, looking for Junkrat in the empty house. The place had barely anything in it and even though the kid was skinny he certainly wasn’t small, there really wouldn’t be any place for him to tuck away and hide. But as Roadhog searched every room he only found dusty furniture. A second explosion rocked the house again. Roadhog growled and ran out the door, his search for Junkrat would have to continue after he got rid of the attackers. That’s what he was being paid to do, wasn’t it?

Roadhog kicked down the front door and bursted outside, hook in hand and ready to throw at the first body he saw. Except there was nothing to greet him but the expanse of dirt and silence. Roadhog looked around, his adrenaline quickly fading out of him and being replaced by confusion. Roadhog slowly lowered his hook as he slowly began circling the house. There had definitely been explosions, you don’t just imagine an entire house shaking. Just as ‘Hog rounded the corner the quiet was broken by the already too familiar sound of laughter coming from the junkyard. Roadhog snorted and put his hook away. Of course the rat had snuck off into the junkyard. He probably slipped away sometime during his watch, though Roadhog had to give him some credit for creeping away without waking him up. The explosions must have come from him as well. Roadhog walked from the house into the junkyard, he needed to put a stop to whatever Junkrat was doing before he blew up the entire place.

Junkrat had made his own separate pile of scrap next to a giant mountain of metal which Roadhog found him buried head first in, the lower half of his body sticking out as if he wasn’t afraid of the possibility of the entire thing falling down and splitting him in half. Roadhog huffed and grabbed Junkrat by the belt, yanking him out from inside the pile and letting him fall to the ground in one fluid motion.

“Oi!” Junkrat cried, scrambling to his feet. “The fuck was that ‘bout?” He snapped.

Roadhog stared right back at Junkrat, taking note that his hair seemed to be singed at the tips and still smoking.

“Oh come off it, ya know we need parts.” Junkrat hitched up his pants indignantly, though as soon as he let go they went back to sagging around his bony hips.

Roadhog looked down at the pile Junkrat had created for himself. He recognized the dome shaped piece of metal from yesterday but now joining it were other sheets of metal, screws of various sizes, pipes, and even more spikes. Nothing would fit together properly, but resourcefulness matched with sheer stubborn determination was a hard combination to beat.

Searching the rest of the junkyard they came across a small building with the necessary tools for both welding and building, another stroke of luck. It seemed the old man knew what he was doing, it almost made the junkers regret killing him and lodging up in his house. Not really.

Building the sidecar was Junkrat’s project and one he did eagerly. The younger man worked away all day and night to build everything accordingly and Roadhog sat with him simply as a precaution. Silently he watched Junkrat for hours on end. Roadhog was impressed by ‘Rat’s knowhow in engineering to get this type of thing done, the kid was a natural and his movements were erratic but also with purpose. Junkrat was prattling on almost the entire time he worked Roadhog watched Junkrat’s right arm in particular, following it with his eyes from behind his mask. The arm was a piece of junk, the only difference from the scrap outside was that it was put together in a way that would function. He wondered how Junkrat came across it. He was skilled now but building a working prosthetic would have been nearly impossible for a kid with only one arm.

Thinking about younger Junkrat opened up more thinking about what had happened after the amputation. How did Junkrat manage to survive after he had been dumped, who did he go to to get the limb? But perhaps the most torturous thought of all was how different could Junkrat had been if Roadhog never chopped off his arm? Maybe if Junkrat had use of all of his original limbs then he could have fought for himself better. Roadhog had no idea if ‘Rat’s leg had any correlation with the loss of his arm but having a bum limb certainly must have made it harder to defend himself. It could even be the reason why Junkrat was so skinny, he grew up without the physicality to get much food. Roadhog could practically wrap his hand around Junkrat’s waist and it could be all his fault. Roadhog’s mind supplied an imaginary image of Junkrat with all of his limbs. He was broader, more muscular. He had a healthier glow to him and his skin was devoid of any kind of ash. He was calmer too, his orange eyes focused rather than the darting looks Junkrat constantly had.

Guilt twisted painfully in ‘Hog’s stomach, making him feel dizzy and his throat close painfully as if he was having one of his asthma attacks. He hated that arm for making him feel this way, hated himself for ever following through with some order from some nobody Junker who overreacted to a kid getting into his measly stash of stolen drugs. He couldn’t think about this any longer, he needed some kind of distraction from his own mind.

The sidecar was coming along great. The frame for the body was complete and the body was coming together as well. Halfway into building it Junkrat came up with the brilliant idea of giving his sidecar a face. Just a little flair that reflected his personality and Junkrat couldn’t help but mimic the wide grin he was creating out of white plates of metal. The extra layer could double as protection but that was just an added bonus. He was so engrossed in his project that Junkrat didn’t notice Roadhog leave or even him returning, but when an almost alcoholic smell hit his nose it was enough to distract him from his work.

Junkrat squinted at Roadhog who seemed to be fiddling with something in his massive hands.

“Oi.” Junkrat jutted his chin out. “What’cha got there?”

Roadhog looked up at ‘Rat and held up a small black bottle in between his forefinger and thumb. Junkrat had to lean forward to get a better look.

“What is that? Some kinda drink? Smells worse than a bloated armadillo corpse festerin’ out in the sun.”

 _Wonderful imagery._ “Nail polish.” Roadhog explained gruffly though it seemed to do nothing in clearing Junkrat’s confusion.

“Am I supposed to know what the fuck that is?” Junkrat snapped, his confusion quickly morphing into irritation.

Roadhog expelled a long sigh and gestured Junkrat to him. Junkrat eyed the sidecar for a moment then set down his tools, approaching Roadhog cautiously like he was some wild animal.

Roadhog reached out to Junkrat. “Hold out your hand.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Junkrat slowly extends his flesh hand to lay on top of Roadhog’s, his fingers twitching anxiously in the much bigger palm.

“Hold still.” Roadhog ordered as he lifted the small brush from the bottle of nail polish. Junkrat’s fingers were much smaller than his own but after painting his own hand for years Roadhog had developed a skilled hand. In steady strokes ‘Hog painted neat black layers on Junkrat’s nails while the younger man watched on… in silence. When Roadhog was finished his dropped his hand and studied Junkrat carefully.

Junkrat was looking at his hand in awe, his usually flapping mouth hanging slack as he brings his newly adorned hand closer to his face. He gives the nails a quick sniff and recoils away from it.

“Shit, mate.” He finally says at last, wiggling his fingers. “Feels different, don’t it? Some weird weight on your nails that ain’t dirt under your fingers.”

“Wait for it to dry.” Roadhog instructed as he started painting his own nails. They didn’t need much but the ends of it were starting to chip.

“Ya do this all the time, do ya?” Junkrat sat down next to Roadhog, shuffling close enough that his knee brushed ‘Hog’s thigh. Roadhog grunted at the proximity.

“Where’d ya even get somethin’ like this? I ain’t ever seen if before. Ya make it?”

Roadhog’s eyes followed the brush strokes. “It used to be popular. Before.”

“Oh.” Was Junkrat’s reply. “I don’t remember nothin’ from then.” A pause. “My mum used to say it was pretty. All bright colors an’ shit.”

Roadhog hummed his agreement. It was rare Roadhog let himself dwell on what Australia had been before the blast but his memories of it never faded. He could remember the feel of his toes buried in the white sand of the beaches, the bright blue sky and vibrant sunsets, the smell of the earth after one of their rare rainstorms. Those memories of the survivors were few and precious. It was something they all held on to more than anything else because deep down it was all they had left.

Junkrat snickered and nudged Roadhog’s side with his bony elbow. “Look at us, two bastards havin’ a moment.”

Roadhog snorted. If they were having a moment then Junkrat just ruined it by mentioning it. But maybe that moment was nice. Maybe.

The sidecar was finished two days after Junkrat had started building it. Actually attaching it to the bike was a job Roadhog took without being offered. If his bike needed work then only himself or a trusted mechanic would be the one to do it, certainly not a bomb-happy manchild with a proclivity to act on first impulses. The gaudy yellow went well with his bike, he had to admit, but the face on the front and another smaller one on the rim of the tire were a bit much if Roadhog had to say. But it was sturdy and got Junkrat off his back (literally) so who was he to complain.  
They raided the house for all the resources it held and set off at dawn. Junkrat snuggled into his sidecar, a blanket draped over him to help shelter him from the inevitable rise of the blistering sun. As they rode ‘Hog found himself glancing down at the lump under the sheets every few minutes. It was strange to come to terms that this was his new reality. Many Junkers felt the weight of their guilt press heavy against their hearts but Roadhog’s slept comfortably in his sidecar. Then again Junkrat was more than that. He may have been a helpless child once but he was something else now. A man pieced together from the harsh wasteland just like Roadhog. Maybe in time ‘Hog would be able to get past what happened all those years ago and move on with Junkrat at his side, the two of them tearing up the world like Junkrat had envisioned. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter but I'm happy with it  
> *linkin park voice* we're building it up to break it back down


	6. Teamwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings and the battlefield  
> Warning: things do get a little graphic near the end! Mentions of blood and mutilation but I promise I don't go into that much detail

In the simplest of terms Roadhog was complicated. In the longer version he was a fucked up murderer who probably has enough blood on his hands that he could bathe in it if he so pleased, but at the same time he had this passiveness to him that was akin to something of a gigantic teddy bear. That was Junkrat’s interpretation of him anyway. It was kind of hard to get a beat on a guy when he said an average of five words a day. The longest Junkrat had heard Roadhog talk was that evening working on the side car, when they talked about Australia before the explosion. Their conversation had lasted maybe five minutes and if it were anyone else that would have been no basis for a good talk but with Roadhog it had made Junkrat’s whole night. Even when the big bastard took his turn to sleep Junkrat continued to work away at the sidecar with a smile on his face and a tune with forgotten origins to whistle. Every now and then when he would work he’d glance down at his flesh hand, the black of his nails still new enough to catch his eye. It was enough to melt a Junker’s heart, if Junkrat was the sentimental type. Which he totally wasn’t. Not one bit. At all.

It would make sense that anyone would feel special to have Roadhog’s (not murderous) attention, to light up when the fat Junker actually cared enough to speak in that gravelly voice that practically matched the sound of his chopper. It didn’t mean anything. Sentiment was the same as a weakness and you didn’t live a day out in the wasteland when you had a weakness.

Junkrat lifted the blanket from his head and peeked up at Roadhog. The afternoon sun stung his eyes and made it hard to see even the large body right next to him. Passing through a trading post had tipped them off to a shipment of supplies being air-dropped in somewhere near the western canyon and that was exactly where they were headed. It had been awhile since Junkrat had been able to get anywhere for a proper score and he had been giddy about it for hours after hearing about it.

“D’ya think there’s gonna be armed guards?” Junkrat had asked Roadhog, earning a noncommittal shrug from the older man. “Ah come on, it’d be fun to off a couple of ‘em. I bet’cha I can blow ‘em all to bits without even damagin’ the supply! It’s all ‘bout precision with those types of things! Some piss for brains think bomin’s all ‘bout throwing somethin’ in the general area an’ waitin’ for it all to go boom!” Junkrat paused. “Okay, which sometimes it is but most of it isn’t! Ya gotta be careful with that shit otherwise ya lose a leg.”

That last comment had earned Junkrat a turn of Roadhog’s head. ‘Hog was studying him, as he often did, and Junkrat had nothing to look back at but a leather mask and a pair of glass eyes. Sometimes in just the right lighting Junkrat could swear he saw a bit of actual eye, small and brown. But Roadhog’s face could be just as much of a myth as the location of the treasure only Junkrat knew about.

That was yesterday though. No sense on dwelling on any of those thoughts now. Roadhog was his bodyguard, someone Junkrat hired to cover his back when things went to shit which they always did.

“Ey, ‘Hog!” Junkrat got out from under his blanket and stood up, wobbling as the sidecar rattled against the cracked and dry landscape. Without looking over Roadhog reached out and placed a hand on Junkrat’s shoulder, shoving him back down into the sidecar.

“Ease off!” Junkrat pushed off Roadhog’s hand. “I’m jus’ tryin’ to ask ya if we’re gettin’ close!”

With the hand ‘Rat had pushed off Roadhog used it to point towards the horizon and when Junkrat followed his finger he saw… nothing. “Listen, mate, if you’re off your rocker this early, I’m gonna have to revoke this employment.” Junkrat said as he squinted off at the distance. That earned him a grunt from Roadhog.

“There’s a dip down into the canyon, out of sight. Perfect place for an airdrop.”

“Oh.” Junkrat looked up at Roadhog. “How d’ya know all this shit?”

“Experience.”

Junkrat laughed. “Ya ol’ fucker! Well as long as your heart don’t give durin’ our time together I don’t mind.”

Roadhog didn’t say anything, he didn’t even look at ‘Rat that entire conversation. It made Junkrat’s insides feel sour as he settled back down into the sidecar.

_Worthless._

The word stung right in his chest. He hated when he got this way, it was unproductive and led towards a complete downwards spiral that always ended up doing him no good and making him feel guilty about it for days afterwards. Junkrat lowered his gaze down to his hand, admiring the black nail polish. It made him feel a bit better for the rest of the ride.

Getting to the canyon was another hour. They rode along the edge until they saw tracks down in the dirt at the bottom of the canyon. As they parked the bike Junkrat hurdled the sidecar and jumped out, a wide grin on his face.

“It’s been too long, ‘Hog! Too long!” He laughed. His fingers twitched, his left hand eager to wrap around his detonator. “Oh I hope I get to watch someone’s head blow off! That’s always the best.”

Roadhog placed his hand on Junkrat’s head and for a minute ‘Rat’s brain short circuited. He wasn’t used to touch like that and Roadhog’s heavy hand weighing down on him was too grounding for his taste. Junkrat shuddered and pushed Roadhog’s hand off him for the second time that day. Still he had stopped talking for a moment and that seemed to be what Roadhog had intended.

Junkrat let out a long sigh, his body deflating with it into a childish hunch. “Right, right, we’ll take it slow. But I didn’t hire ya to loiter while I do the dirty work! Get in there with me an’ we shouldn’t have any problems.”

The canyon was once filled with vegetation and even a river, but like everything in the wasteland it didn’t survive in the harsh conditions. Gnarling and twisted skeletons of trees were all that remained in the worn out rock, and if there had been any water left it would have been a fatal mistake to try and drink it. The sheer drops from the edge of the canyon were more than 100 meters long but there were ways to navigate it. Zigzagging paths carved into the canyon served as helpful paths to get to the bottom. Still it was a steep decline which proved troublesome for Junkrat. With only one good foot stuck in a worn out boot the loose gravel underneath Junkrat would cause him to slide at random intervals and come dangerously close to falling off the edge. Every time Junkrat would flail his arms around as he reobtained his balance and giggle nervously afterwards.

“Always thought I’d go out with a boom, not a splat.” He would joke.

Roadhog must have grown tired of it after the fourth (or maybe fifth? Junkrat wasn’t keeping track) time it happened because he stopped dead in his tracks and almost caused Junkrat to bump into him.

“Why we stoppin’? Ya spot somethin’ or what?” Junkrat asked, straightening up to try and get a peek of whatever caused them to stop. To his surprise, however, Roadhog turned around and grabbed Junkrat by the straps securing his rip tire to his back.

Junkrat kicked the air, panic running through him. For a split second he believed Roadhog intended to throw him off over the edge. But before Junkrat could even open his mouth to try and bargain his way out of this situation Roadhog moved him through the air and over his shoulder. Junkrat, though confused, took the queue to wrap his arms around ‘Hog’s shoulders. Satisfied, Roadhog grunted and continued down the cliff at a steady pace.

“Holy shit, mate.” Junkrat whispered, burying his face in Roadhog’s shoulder.

\-----  


The thrill of battle was best when it was tangible. It was a flutter in the chest, a metallic taste in the back of the throat, the pounding of blood in your ears that drowned out everything but your own breathing and heartbeat. Once they had gotten on the ground the two Junkers had followed the tracks in the dirt down the canyon until they started hearing sounds. It was the sound of trucks and troops, oblivious of the two men stalking them and currently hiding behind a rock formation.

Junkrat could tell Roadhog wanted some kind of strategy before rushing in and initially that’s what Junkrat had promised. But on their way to their current hiding spot Junkrat had caught sight of a truck full of unlabeled crates. He wanted them. He wanted them _so bad._

Junkrat turned to Roadhog, placing a hand on the big lug’s arm to get his attention. “Listen,” He began. “I know I said we were gonna do this all slow like, but rack all that. Ain’t no point plannin’ like this when they all gonna be dead afterwards no matter what. Jus’ try not to get shot an’ all that, ‘kay?”

If Roadhog had a response for that Junkrat didn’t wait for it. His skinny body slipped past grabbing hands and Junkrat rushed into the camp.

Junkrat unclipped one of his grenades as he ran, lobbing it forward into the first crowd of guards he saw. One of them had the sense to spot it and call it out but by then it was too late. The grenade went off and took out four of them, leaving one survivor blown back into the rock face. Junkrat let out a loud cheer, throwing his fist in the air. “That’s more like it!”

The one downside to explosions, and Junkrat wouldn’t even call it a downside, was that it attracted company. The gunfire came first, it always did. Junkrat dived behind the truck full of crates. The bullets ceased then. It seemed they didn’t want to damage whatever was in the crates. Junkrat jumped when the gunfire started up again but he quickly realized it wasn’t targeted at him. No, it was aimed at Roadhog. The bastard was barreling down the camp with his gun raised in one hand and hook primed in the other. A real vision, he was.

Roadhog was shooting his scrap gun but from the incoming fire it didn’t seem like he was getting anywhere. Junkrat peeked his head around from the back of the truck to assess the situation. Three guards were in a triangular formation, their guns and focus trained on Roadhog. Heh, what a bunch of idiots.

“Don’tcha worry, ‘Hog! I got ya!” Junkrat yelled over the shooting. Another grenade was unclipped and Junkrat jumped out from behind the truck, throwing the grenade with as much force as he could muster. The bomb sailed through the air in a high arch and landed in the middle of the three of them, detonating upon contact with the ground. Perfect timing, thank you very much.

The hail of bullets was consumed by the fire and smoke of the explosion. Junkrat cackled and joined Roadhog at his side to watch the aftermath of his handy work. The plume of smoke faded up into the air and the remnants of the guards became clear. Some parts of their bodies stuck close to the epicenter and were charred to the bone, while other parts were blasted off the bodies and away from the explosion. Seeing the blood soak into the dirt from the mangled bodies was always an interesting thing to observe in Junkrat’s opinion. It was just so fascinating to see the human body contorted in ways that were otherwise physically impossible. It almost didn’t seem real. Like none of this was real and it was all some game complete with fake bodies and prewritten scenarios. Junkrat shook his head. Dwelling on that train of thought was dangerous in battle.

Shouting could be heard from further within the camp and Junkrat glanced up at Roadhog. The older man was fidgeting in a way that Junkrat could relate to; ‘Hog was out for blood.

“Alright, ya big baby, this batch is yours. Imma investigate the boxes while ya take care of the rest. Square?”

“Square.” Was all Junkrat got before he ran off. Was it just Junkrat’s imagination or was ‘Hog’s voice deeper than normal?

_Focus for once._

Right. Boxes.

Junkrat turned on his heel to the truck, rubbing his hands together as he approached the crates. “Alright, ya beauts! Let’s pop the top an’ see what ya got!”

\-----

“The fuck kinda airdrop sends omnic parts?!” Junkrat snapped at Roadhog for the hundredth time in the last five minutes.

“It’s fucked up tryin’ to bring ‘em back here after everythin’, ain’t it? I don’t give two kangaroo shits if the newer models are ‘pacified’ or whatever bullshit they’re spewin’ now. They all deserve to be blown up and sent straight to hell where they belong.”

Roadhog grunted as he continued to rustle through his bag from the camp. As much as Junkrat had wanted to blow the entire camp up to kingdom come Roadhog had insisted on taking some valuable parts and guns for selling. Not being able to obliterate the entire place until it was all a smoking crater had been the final bad note to this failed heist. Now all ‘Rat wanted to do was sleep and forget this entire day. When they found a tent big enough to hold the both of them Junkrat had lept on the cot and called first dibs on sleeping. Roadhog seemed to be content with that or at the very least he didn’t say anything ( _as usual)._ Junkrat curled up on himself under the sheets.

The tent had only been filled the the necessities. It would have made sense for the guards to keep the airdrop in the canyon at night, unseen and protected. And move it in the early morning when they had the most time to beat the afternoon sun. Too bad none of them counted on a pair of extra-bloodthirsty Junkers who were willing to work in tandem. In total there had been thirteen guards which were all disposed of without anything bigger than a couple of scratches and bruises.

“I was so excited too. Our first bust together.” Junkrat muttered, mostly to himself. Roadhog must have heard it though because Junkrat could no longer hear him rustling around the loot they had stolen.

Junkrat sat up and looked to Roadhog who was looking right back, leather mask as impassive as ever.

“Oh, yeah?” Junkrat crossed his arms and scowled at Roadhog. “What’s so good ‘bout it all, then?”

“Good team.”

Oh. That probably was one of the furthest things Junkrat would have guessed Roadhog would say. Junkrat smiled slightly. “Ya think so?”

A nod.  
‘Rat settled back on the bed, his back to Roadhog so he could hide the grin on his face. There was that special feeling again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What fuels this fic: 15% my love for this ship, 10% listening to musicals during the writing process, 25% late night writing inspiration, 50% all of your encouraging comments. Thank you all so much!!! :)  
> Personally Junkrat having bdp gives me such a connection to him and that's what drew me to the character (and consequentially the ship) in the first place! I tried to touch on it a little here and I'll get more into it when we get to the angst. I'm mostly using my own symptoms for reference but I might make him a little more generalized to cover all the bases and convey bpd more clearly.


	7. Reading and Writing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe staying in one spot for more than a day had its advantages  
> Small amount of animal violence in this chapter. Sorry but a Junker's gotta eat!

Roadhog had made the suggestion to stay at the camp after their first night and Junkrat was less than thrilled. Junkrat really didn’t like to stay in one place for too long. Junkertown was a bit of an exception because he knew that place like the back of his hand (his good one) and everyone in it. He knew where to go for every situation. Bounty hunter after him? He’d go down main street and hide out in a hidden bunker under the bridge. Shootout? He knew how to scale almost every building to get a good vantage point to drop his grenades. Rain? The bar was insulated. Needed to get off, well Junkrat knew the best brothel in town for both men and women, though as far as Junkrat could tell about himself he only stood at attention for blokes. Not that he had any time for that; ever since he and Roadhog had teamed up Junkrat had no opportunity to get off even once. During one of their long bike rides Junkrat had hidden himself away underneath his blanket and tried sticking his hand in his pants. The vibrations from the rattling sidecar had felt good for a while... up until they hit a bump and Junkrat accidentally punched himself in his half hard dick. Long story short, he didn’t feel like continuing after that.

Needless to say, Junkrat was tense.

Junkrat paced along their shared tent, his peg leg creaking at the joint of his ‘knee’. “Mate, how many fuckers d’ya think got wind of the airdrop same as us?” He had been reiterating the same argument over and over for the past hour but nothing seemed to change Roadhog’s mind.  _ Leather-brained bastard. _

“I know ya said we’ll jus’ take out whoever comes by, but I can’t keep replacin’ my mines every time some schlanger comes saunterin’ through! An’ what if one of ‘em has more than two brain cells and decides to shoot from above, eh? Then what?” Junkrat stopped pacing to glare at Roadhog. “We’re right fucked, is what!”

Roadhog was sitting on his bedroll on the floor. His massive weight proved too much for the foldable cots the camp provided and after ten minutes of trying to figure out a way to possibly let him use them (“Nah, Rodie ya ain’t listenin’! If we wrap these two together then maybe…”) they had given up and Roadhog took the tried and true bedroll instead.

Junkrat glared at Roadhog. “Don’t tell me to calm down! I’m thinkin’ of survival here! I hired ya to keep me alive but you’re doin’ a shit show of it right now.”

“We’re safe.” Roadhog huffed, getting annoyed by Junkrat’s behavior. There was survival instinct and then there was plain paranoia.

Junkrat clenched and released his hands. He was beginning to feel trapped. The room was so hot and only got hotter with every breath he took. He couldn’t think, his brain was all static and buzzing and Junkrat couldn’t hear a damn thing other than what was between his ears.

“I’m goin’ out to rustle up some food.” Junkrat declared before he all but sprinted out of the tent. Roadhog watched ‘Rat go and shook his head.

“Dumb kid.” He muttered to no one, though there wasn’t any real malice in his tone anyway.

During certain points of the day the canyon had shadows that created the perfect respite for whatever animals lived nearby. Most of the time that meant lizards, snakes, and insects. Junkrat was moving along the shade slowly as to not scare off any potential meal when he turned a corner and saw  _ it. _

The rabbit perched itself unassumingly on a large rock, thinking itself safe from predators. Little did it know that death was looming a mere five feet away, and that death was hungry for rabbit.

Junkrat rubbed his chin in thought on how exactly he would catch the rabbit. It was sleeping but that guaranteed nothing, those hairy bastards were fast the second they woke up and they were the lightest sleepers. A grenade would do him no good, unless he wanted it to rain fur instead of eat dinner.

_ Well… _

No! Food was more important than making something blow up this time. A hard decision to come to but necessary nonetheless. Junkrat ultimately decided to rush the rabbit before it had a chance to respond. He leapt towards it and by some miracle managed to actually close his hands around its body before it had the chance to bolt. 

Junkrat let out a loud cackle of victory as he hit the ground hard, but not enough to deter his good mood. The rabbit let out shrill cries as it kicked and bit Junkrat’s hands; ‘Rat brought the bunny in close as he sat up, grinning widely at his prey.

Making sure to keep a tight grip on it Junkrat adjusted one of his hands to wrap around the struggling rabbit’s neck. “‘Nough of that.” He said with a grunt and twist of his wrist. With a satisfying snap the rabbit became limp in his hands. 

Junkrat laughed and held the rabbit up to his face, wiggling it mockingly. “‘Hog’s gonna smack a big one on me when he sees me bring ya back.” 

Now there was an odd idea: Roadhog kissing him. Junkrat had no idea what Roadhog’s face looked like beneath that mask, the closest thing he saw was when ‘Hog brought his mask up just enough to expose his mouth for eating or drinking water. Roadhog’s skin was the same tan color even underneath the mask which led Junkrat to believe he was probably born that way. Some kind of something from somewhere that Junkrat’s pale skin and blond hair wasn’t. Roadhog’s mouth was big and he had fat lips and Junkrat could have sworn that a pair of his bottom teeth jutted out from his mouth like some kind of tusks. Junkrat sat in the dirt for a moment imagining what it would feel like to have those lips against his. Junkrat’s were chapped and thin but ‘Hog’s looked so soft… would he be gentle or rough? It could go either way with him. After a couple minutes of imagining Junkrat shook his head to try and dispel those thoughts. Lonely desert thinking, that’s all that was. 

_ Liar. Disgusting liar.  _

\-----

Roadhog didn’t allow himself many luxuries. Luxuries made one soft, susceptible to weakness. But as Roadhog slowly leafed through the pages of his book he couldn’t seem to find fault with it.

It was a simple story that he had read a million times. A tried and true tale about a man traveling the ends of the earth, storming a castle to fight a dragon, and rescuing the fair maiden whom he loved upon first glance. Except the author managed to make it over 300 pages long. It was a book Roadhog had purchased during a different time and served as an heirloom of the past which is why he could never seem to be able to part with it. ‘Hog had just gotten to the part where the man swears to the king that he would rescue his daughter when Junkrat comes bursting into the tent.

“Ya won’t believe what I found!” He exclaimed, thrusting forward a single rabbit which he held by the ears.

That would be half a meal each if they managed to scrape off every bit of meat from the animal.

When Roadhog didn’t react Junkrat’s enthusiasm quickly deflated. He looked between ‘Hog and the rabbit nervously, worrying at his bottom lip with his sharp teeth. “Right. I know it might not be much but it’s good meat! An’ we got all the provisions hidden ‘round the camp too. I jus’ thought…” 

Roadhog sighed and set his book down beside his bedroll. Junkrat’s eyes followed the movement and stopped at the book. Tilting his head and frowning, he asked, “What’s that there?”

“A book.”

“What?” Junkrat dropped the rabbit to the floor and approached the book as one would approach a feral animal. Beneath his mask Roadhog rolled his eyes.

“A book. For reading.” ‘Hog further explained as Junkrat sat down in front of it.

“You read?”  _ You can read?  _ was the implication. Roadhog grunted the affirmative.

“Huh.” Junkrat picked up the book and flipped the pages rapidly across his thumb. He only stopped when faded colors caught his eye. “Oh! It’s got pictures!” His delight was the same as a child’s would be but somehow charming.

The picture was placed halfway through the book and the only picture in it. It showed the ‘terrifying dragon’, it’s twisting form taking up a majority of the picture. It was a deep green with detailed scales and yellow eyes. It breathed red fire as smoke protruded from its nostrils. An image that would intimidate children and apparently put Junkrat in a state of awe. Almost reverently Junkrat dragged his fingers down the picture.

‘Rat tore his gaze away from the page to look up at Roadhog. “What is this?” 

“A dragon.”

“Dragon? That’s what they look like? Hooley Dooley.” Junkrat whistled and looked back at the picture. “This is one of them stories, ain’t it? With the sheila locked up in a tower an’ all that… ya can read all this?”

Roadhog nodded. Junkrat dared to glance up at him and for the first time Junkrat looked shy. 

“D’ya think maybe ya could teach me a bit?”

\-----

They started out small. Roadhog had written the alphabet down on a sheet of paper and Junkrat was able to identify some of the letters right off the bat. Since Junkrat already knew how to speak English (or the horribly butchered accent of it most Junkers possessed) progress went quicker than expected. They sounded out each letter together as Junkrat used his finger to guide him through the list, they did that three times. After that Roadhog handed the pen to Junkrat and asked him to write a few words down. 

“Dog.”  _ D-o-g. _

“Bike.”  _ B-i-k.  _

_ “There’s an ‘e’ at the end.”  _

_ “Oh.” _

“Bomb.”  _ It earned him a grin. B-o-m. _

_ “There’s a 'b' at the end.” _

_ “What? No, it’s not bom-buh.” _

_ “There just is.” _

_ “Fine, fine, Christ keep ya curly tail on.” _

_ C-o-k _

_ “I didn’t ask you to spell that… it’s wrong.” _

_ “FUCK.” _

“Spell your name.”

Junkrat hesitated. Just as he was about to write he would glance up at the alphabet again, studying the letters with a furrowed brow.

“If you need h-”

“Stuff it, I can do it!” He snapped.

Junkrat brought the tip of the pen to paper, dragging it along with such focus it was almost comical how bad the handwriting actually was.

_ J-a-m-u-s-u-n. _

Roadhog arched an eyebrow at the sloppily written name. He didn’t expect Junkrat to actually write his given name. Junkrat caught him looking and sat up straight.

“What?” He growled and jabbed Roadhog’s arm with the end of the pen, clearly defensive. “Name’s Jamison, gotta problem with it?”

It was easy for Roadhog to snag the pen from thin and unpracticed fingers. He quickly scrawled on the paper and pushed it towards Junkrat. “It’s probably spelled like this.”

_ J-a-m-i-s-o-n. _

Junkrat studied the word to commit it to memory. “Ya know, I sometimes go by Jamie.”

Junkrat grunted and wrote again.

_ J-a-m-i-e. _

Junkrat, Jamison, Jamie, let out a bark of a laugh. “Would ya look at that!” He tapped the paper with his finger. “That’s my name right there!”

Then he looked to Roadhog, falling silent. An unspoken question lingered in the tent, neither man brave enough to vocalize it. Roadhog could stop right here. This was more than enough, he was the kid’s bodyguard not his teacher. He didn’t even need to do what he already had done, that was just a moment of kindness. If he walked away now Junkrat,  _ Jamie,  _ might not press the matter again.

_ Yeah, right. _

‘Hog grunted and brought pen to paper once more.

_ M-a-k-o. _

Junkrat whispered each letter to himself as he worked through the new word. “Mako?” He guessed correctly. When ‘Hog nodded his whole face lit up, his eyes shining with a smile so wide it looked painful. 

“Mako! An’ I’m Jamison!” Junkrat clutched his belly as his whole body shook with laughter. 

“Well, _Mako_ ,” Junkrat thrusted his hand out towards Roadhog. Mako. “Good to meet ya!”  
When Roadhog took Junkrat’s hand he completely enveloped it, just like the first time. But unlike the first time something stirred in Roadhog’s chest. It was warm and uncomfortable at the same time. “Pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before writing this chapter I watched Mad Max: Fury Road which is the perfect dystopian Australian aesthetic to crank out some bad ass Junker action! ...Which somehow resulted in this chapter mostly being fluff ._.  
> Anyway I hope I was able to keep my dirty boys in character while writing this, it's tricky when they aren't hurting something or themselves every other paragraph. Let me know what you think in the comments!


	8. Cabin Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions rise, among other things

Day four into their life at the camp. Unforeseen weather conditions forced the two men to postpone their final ride out to the ocean, and weather conditions roughly translated to it raining acid water from the sky. It was enough to burn and blister skin in small doses and if some unlucky fucker couldn’t get to cover in time then they could kiss their melting ass goodbye.

The storm had started out as a series of dark clouds rolling over the sky, obscuring the sun completely. When Junkrat had poked his head out of the tent that morning he swore and rushed back in.

“C’mon, Roadie! We gotta go  _ now! _ ” Junkrat shoved Roadhog’s stomach as he passed by, gathering everything he could reach up in his arms. 

Roadhog snorted and bolted upright, instinctively looking around for whatever had Jamie in a panic. There was no sounds of gunfire or shouting (at least no shouting that wasn’t coming from Junkrat) and as far as Roadhog could tell nothing is on fire. So what had set Junkrat off?

“Stop.” The command was deep and authoritative. Junkrat froze halfway through stuffing his bag in a way that looked like someone had pointed a remote at ‘Rat and pressed pause. 

“What are you doing?” Roadhog stood up from his bedroll. That had the second time he had received a rude awakening thanks to the twitchy blond and ‘Hog had made a mental note to switch their lookout shifts so he would be the first one to wake up in the mornings.

The question brought Junkrat back to life and and he was all over the place again. He dropped his bag and moved to Roadhog’s bedroll, frantically trying to roll it up. “Storm’s rollin’ in heavy, ‘Hog. It’s gonna be a big one so we gotta get goin’ on our trip if we wanna stay ‘head of it.”

Outrunning nature was always a bad idea because every single time nature won. The people who dared go against it couldn’t pass on their mistakes because they were dead. Roadhog crossed his arms and stared Junkrat down, unmoving. In Junkrat’s frantic efforts it took him a minute to even notice.

“Roadie, we ain’t got time for none of this! What, ya wanna stay here?” A grunt from Roadhog and Junkrat groaned, rolling his head back for added theatrics. “Ya think the tent’ll hold up against the weather?”

A nod from ‘Hog and another groan from Junkrat and that was that.

They gathered up supplies into their tent before the storm came in, crowding the already small space inside the tent with boxes of dehydrated food packets and water. Now both Roadhog and Junkrat were trying to keep themselves occupied as it stormed outside, the patter of rain and crack of thunder the only things to break up the monotony. Roadhog was back to reading his book while Junkrat busied himself with sketches of new ideas for bombs and traps. Occasionally ‘Hog would look over at Junkrat to find that the pile of papers next to him had doubled in size, the sheets covered to the brim with designs notes in the form of pictures and arrows that only ‘Rat’s mind could ever decipher. Just trying to look at them all at once gave ‘Hog a headache. But Junkrat seemed to make sense of it all, his face screwed up in utter focus with his brow furrowed and his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

_ Clever kid,  _ Roadhog thought to himself as he leaned forward to get a slightly better look at some of the sketches.

Roadhog pointed to one of the pieces of paper. “What’s that one?”

Junkrat’s head snapped up to look at Roadhog. “Ya wanna look at my blueprints?” He sounded suspicious, disbelieving.

“If you want to show me.” Roadhog shrugged one shoulder.

Junkrat wrinkled his nose in thought, studying the page Roadhog showed interest in. “Well… I guess if I can’t trust ya then who can I trust?” He finally decided with a jovial grin.

Roadhog tensed, his hands clenching around his book. No, Junkrat shouldn’t trust him. He didn’t deserve to be trusted after everything he had done, not that Junkrat had known about about any of that. Not Junkrat, he wasn’t Junkrat then. He was Jamie. Young Jamie who hadn’t grown into his skinny limbs, who probably had the same cheerful grin and bright eyes that ‘Hog never got to see at the right age. He only saw a face twisted in an agony that no child should endure while he slowly bled out in ‘Hog’s arms.

Roadhog had been so lost in thought he didn’t notice ‘Rat move until he was right up next to him, Junkrat’s skinny thigh pressed right up against his own. 

“Alright, this one here’s the trap I’ve been tinkerin’ with for awhile.” Junkrat prefaced. He held up a page depicting a portable trap that was lined with sharp metal teeth. “I wanna make it collapsible with multiple trigger points. Much easier to trip it if ya don’t gotta make ‘em step right in the center. I’m thinkin’ maybe I could add a couple joints an’ it might do the trick.”

Roadhog didn’t know much about this kind of engineering, so he merely nodded. That was all the encouragement ‘Rat needed and he pushed Roadhog playfully with his prosthetic arm.

“Ya charmer.” Junkrat laughed. “I know all my ideas are ingenious but ya might jus’ make a bloke blush.”

Roadhog wasn’t really paying attention to what Junkrat was saying. His focus was on the orange arm Junkrat had pushed him with. ‘Hog knew for a fact that the metal was cold but when it touched him it was like he had been burned with a brand. ‘Rat noticed ‘Hog’s lack of attention and followed his line of sight down to his arm.

“Yeah, ain’t a looker is it?” Junkrat sighed, lifting his hand up and twitching his fingers. The joints creaked softly. Another sigh.

“Sod it.” Roadhog might have asked what he meant but as Junkrat began fumbling with the clasps of his peg leg Roadhog got the picture. Junkrat hissed as the leg came off, revealing a stump just above his knee lined with a metal cover where wires would connect to flesh and muscle. Roadhog never understood how the link between nerves and wires were created and chances were if he asked Junkrat would have given him the same answer. Either way it was as impressive as it looked painful.

Next came the arm, this was the one that had Roadhog on edge. It felt completely indecent to watch Junkrat take it off, like he was stripping his clothes instead of his artificial limbs. Junkrat went through the motions of taking his arm off, muscle memory guiding him through the steps with a casual expertise until with one final click the arm detached and fell to the floor accompanied by a metallic thud.

“Crikey! Been forever since I took all that shit off!” Junkrat stretched out his limbs in a spread-eagle fashion, his groaning borderline lewd. Roadhog hated himself for how much he liked hearing it.

“Ya ever take that shit off?” When Junkrat gestured with his amputated arm it made his question more than vague, but in reality there was only one thing he could be referring to.

Roadhog shrugged. It wasn’t something Junkrat wanted to see.

“Aw, c’mon! I promise I’ve seen much more ugly than ya could ever produce.” Junkrat pushed forward his bottom lip and tried to make his eyes as big as possible.

“No.”

“I took off my limbs for ya! It’s not like I’m askin’ to see your cock! Which, I mean, if you w-”

“ _ No. _ ”

“Kiddin’! Mostly. Don’t ya trust me?”

Roadhog studied Junkrat carefully. The attempted puppy face was gone and replaced with a look of open sincerity, something ‘Hog never thought he’d find anywhere in the wasteland. Was Junkrat really that hurt about ‘Hog not showing him his face? It was that important to him? God, Roadhog wished Junkrat would stop looking at him with those shining eyes.

Roadhog sighed and reached his hands back behind his head. This was a bad idea but the excited cheer from ‘Rat pressed him forward. He couldn’t remember the last time he even took his mask off and unhooking the clasps proved awkward and unpractised. ‘Rat failed to bite back a large grin and bounced up and down on his butt in anticipation. His eyes were wide and followed every movement, audibly gasping when the mask finally fell away into Roadhog’s hand.

It had been months, maybe even close to a year, since Roadhog had seen his own face but he knew exactly what Junkrat was seeing. It wasn’t something easily forgotten. Tan skin littered with pale scars that formed dips in leathery flesh, sparse stubble that never grew out enough for a beard, small dark eyes hidden underneath a prominent brow paired with thick eyebrows, and his teeth… Well the inspiration for ‘Roadhog’ didn’t just appear out of thin air. As soon as the mask had come off Roadhog had prepared himself for Junkrat’s revulsion in any form ranging from screaming to actual vomiting.

But it never came.

Instead Junkrat was studying Roadhog’s face with the utmost concentration, his eyes flicking all over to try and retain every detail. “Shit, Roadie.” He said at last.

Roadhog coughed, his lungs adjusting to nonfiltered air. “Told you.”

\-----

Junkrat couldn’t find words to describe what he was feeling, and people who had been around him for longer than three seconds would have been shocked by that. Honestly ‘Rat had been expecting anything from a mutilated jaw to an actual pig nose, but this… this was magnificent. He  _ had _ to get a closer look.

“Nah, that ain’t what I meant.” Junkrat said in reply to ‘Hog’s earlier comment.

Awkwardly he clambered on to Roadhog’s lap, his lack of limbs making the task even harder. After some horribly unbalanced squirming, repositioning, and a helpful nudge up from ‘Hog Junkrat finally got where he wanted to be. Roadhog grunted and leaned back indulgently as ‘Rat straddled him and brought his only hand up to ‘Hog’s cheek. Honestly this was farther than Junkrat ever thought Roadhog would let him go, and that aspect alone excited him. 

The sensation of warm skin on his face must have been foreign because Roadhog flinched away from ‘Rat’s hand at first. Junkrat pulled his hand away, remaining quiet, then placed it back when ‘Hog relaxed a little more. His skin was tight, not in the youthful sense but in the ‘almost all of his face was scar tissue instead of supple regular flesh’ way. There was stubble on his face that tickled the palm of Jamie’s hand, making him smile. And those lips, God they were even better than what ‘Rat had thought up for himself. This was new territory for them both and it was important to tread lightly. It’s a shame Junkrat was never any good at that.

“Mate, ya look like a proper gent! Where do ya get off callin’ yourself some kinda skid?” Junkrat laughed and gently slapped Roadhog’s cheek. Roadhog didn’t seem to appreciate it as he scowled at the younger man which produced actual chills. Junkrat had sensed ‘Hog’s anger before (often times directed at him) but seeing it now was a whole other beast. If looks could kill Junkrat was sure he’d be ten feet under on the spot. Still he pressed on.

“I ain’t kiddin’ ya! Mako, you’re incredible! Dunno why ya keep it all hidden.” Jamie went on. He couldn’t stop himself from gushing because it was  _ true _ . He had never seen anyone like ‘Hog before and up until now Junkrat never even got to see all of him. It was like finally unwrapping a long awaited gift. 

“It’s like the perfect combination of sexy an’ scary. Like ya could kill me, but my corpse would have a stiffy, ya know?” Junkrat laughed.

Roadhog huffed out a long breath and shoved Jamie off of his lap to the ground. It caught him off guard and with some undignified flailing on the way down he landed on the dirt with a cloud of dust surrounding him. Not that it mattered, the air was knocked clean out of his lungs. Stupid dry land.

_ Stupid boy. What did you expect? Disgusting. You don’t deserve him. You don’t deserve anybody. _

“Too far?” Junkrat wheezed, unable to do more than stare at the ceiling of the tent.

“Not funny.” Roadhog growled.

Junkrat slowly rolled to his side, his back spasming in protest. “Wasn’t really a joke.”

“What?”

Jamie looked over his shoulder back at Roadhog. He was staring back intently, brow furrowed and a stubborn frown on his face. Roadhog frowned so much Jamie couldn’t help but wonder if that was his resting expression.

_ No, it’s reserved for idiots like you. _

Junkrat sat up with a small wince. “I know I’m your boss an’ all that, but professionalism can rack off ‘cause you’re ‘bout the hottest thing I’ve laid eyes on, an’ I’ve stared at the sun for a solid minute before.” Junkrat waved his hand dismissively. “I know we ain’t known each other long but I ain’t askin’ for a rock. Jus’ sayin’ if ya need a li’l somethin’ somethin’ I won’t say no.”

Roadhog was still frowning. It wasn’t like Junkrat hadn’t been rejected before but this time it felt particularly sour. It shouldn’t feel so different but it did, somehow more important and consequently more painful to take. Junkrat wished he would stop looking at him. He couldn’t take these feelings bubbling up inside of him so ‘Rat let it out the best way he knew how: anger.

“Christ, if ya wanna tell me to fuck off say it ya coward! Jus’... fuckin’  _ say somethin’ _ !” Junkrat yelled, his fist clenching at his side.

He couldn’t take this. ‘Hog’s eyes were intense and bore into him like bullets, following his every move as Junkrat struggled to stand. Of course he didn’t have his limbs on for this, it just added to the indignity of the whole moment. Junkrat grasped one of the crates and started pulling himself up with it.

_ He hates you, everyone hates you, you don’t deserve the rotten air you bre- _

A hand reached out around Junkrat’s middle, pulling him backwards onto Roadhog’s lap and pressing him right up against his stomach. Junkrat struggled again, lip curled and ready to bite if anything got close enough.

“Fuck off, alright? I’m sorry I said anythin’!”

“Did you mean it?”

Junkrat stopped moving. He couldn’t have heard that right. “Pardon?”

The hand holding him slowly slipped down Junkrat’s front, cupping him in between his legs. The sheer size of it forced him to spread himself a little to accommodate it. Junkrat let out a hysteric giggle followed by a moan when Roadhog pressed down.

Roadhog’s breath was right up against his ear, hot and wet in a way that sent shivers down Junkrat’s spine. “Tell me to stop.” He growled.

More laughter from Junkrat. “No, mate. I don’t reckon I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well we can all assume what happens next. I decided to leave it to the next chapter rather than make a disproportionally long one compared to all the rest. I'll update the tags after I upload it  
> Everyone's support (kudos, comments, hits, and bookmarks alike) has been really wonderful and I thank you all. To those who comment: I love you all dearly. To those who regularly comment: you'll find my wedding proposal mailed to you within 3 business days.


	9. In the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirty boys being dirty

It was hard to keep Junkrat’s attention for longer than two minutes. The blond was as much of a firecracker as his explosives, his mind going a mile a minute and mouth moving even faster. That’s why Roadhog considered the moments where Junkrat actually calmed the hell down to be very special and something to treasure. ‘Rat was putty in his arms, his whole body relaxed and laid back against ‘Hog’s massive gut. Roadhog continued to rub his hand in between Junkrat’s legs, feeling the bulge steadily grow beneath his tattered shorts. Junkrat was moaning so much it almost seemed like he was faking, but one look at his face told ‘Hog he wasn’t; Junkrat’s entire face was covered in a blush that spread to his ears and down to his neck, his teeth digging into his bottom lip that did nothing to impede the dizzy smile he wore. Occasionally Roadhog would press the heel of his palm down just enough to get Junkrat to make that high pitched cry that was music to ‘Hog’s ears.

“Sing for me.” Roadhog growled, gripping Junkrat through his pants. Junkrat arched his back, his head pressed back hard against Roadhog’s shoulder.

“Holy shit, ‘Hog.” Junkrat gasped. He was grinding himself desperately against Roadhog’s palm. Junkrat’s whole body seemed to be radiating heat like some kind of fever and it only spurred Roadhog on more.

“Mako.” Roadhog leaned down to kiss Junkrat’s ear, biting the shell of it right after hard enough to get Junkrat to gasp. “When we do this, you call me Mako.”

“So ya mean we get to do this again?” Another squeeze and Junkrat was moaning again.

“We’ll see.”

“Why don’t we get on to the main event then, eh? There’s a hog I’ve yet to meet.” Junkrat moves his ass back and it’s Roadhog’s turn to moan. The large bulge in his pants had gone neglected until now and even the small brush against it was almost more than he could bear. He released Junkrat abruptly and Junkrat whined loudly at the loss of contact.

“Strip and get on the bedroll.” Mako grunted, working on getting his belt undone when Jamie slipped off of him. There had been no point in getting into full gear, no one would dare try to attack or even go outside when it was raining, but pants had been a necessity which at the moment seemed like more of a nuisance. 

Jamie’s voice came from further away and Mako didn’t need to see him to know he was grinning. “Need some help, big guy?”

“Easier to take off clothes when you’re ten pounds.” Mako snapped but Jamie only laughed.

Roadhog stood and the pants sunk to the floor, ‘Hog stepping out of them carefully with a relieved sigh. He was greeted to the sight of Junkrat spread out on the bedroll, propping his head up with his one hand pressed to the side of his head. Roadhog couldn’t help but use the opportunity to take in all of Junkrat he had yet to see. Lean muscle covered pale skin, a dip in his stomach and slightly prominent ribs a sign of malnutrition. Fine blond hair started at his navel and trailed down to a darker gold at the base of his cock which was fully hard and the tip shining with precome. A small smirk grew on Hog’s face, a sense of pride developing from knowing that he made Junkrat that way. That his hand had been used to get Junkrat all hot and bothered and practically begging for it. And by the way Junkrat was looking at ‘Hog it seemed like he was getting just as much of an eyeful as he was.

“Ain’t no part of ya small, eh Mako?” Junkrat licked his lips. “Seems like I’ll have a full stomach tonight.”

Roadhog rolled his eyes and sat down next to Junkrat. The bedroll wasn’t big enough to fit them both and Roadhog made the sacrifice of being the one who was only half on it. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Why don’tcha find a way to make me shut up?” Junkrat retorted with a sly grin.

“C’mere.” Roadhog reached out and grabbed Junkrat’s wrist, practically dragging the other man on top of him. Junkrat splayed half of himself out on Roadhog’s stomach, sliding down slowly until he fit around Roadhog’s hips. Junkrat’s legs were spread wide to accommodate ‘Hog’s size and when Junkrat rocked his hips back Roadhog’s cock slid perfectly in place against his ass. Both Junkers moaned loudly as thunder rolled overhead.

“Aw, Mako. Can’t wait for ya.” Junkrat gasped and started moving against Mako in earnest, setting an erratic and fast pace. It was obvious ‘Rat didn’t have much experience or hadn’t done anything like this in such a long time that eagerness replaced skill. But the friction was doing the trick well enough and Roadhog was starting to get painfully hard.

‘Hog reached around and placed his hands on Junkrat’s sides, gripping him tightly. Junkrat looked slightly confused but before he could even get his mouth open enough to ask Roadhog was moving Junkrat up and over to place him around his thighs.

“Whoa, mate. Got a plan?” Jamie cackled and waggled his eyebrows.

“Shut up.” Roadhog lifted his hand up to Junkrat’s mouth, pushing one finger inside the open maw. Junkrat gagged in surprise but Roadhog kept it in, shoving it deeper until his knuckle was brushing Junkrat’s teeth.

Jamie was a quick learner. His tongue laved Roadhog’s finger with diligence, running along the sides and rubbing teasingly at the more sensitive flesh in between ‘Hog’s fingers. When Roadhog pressed another finger in Jamie’s mouth the blond let out a high pitched giggle and closed his lips around the two digits. That’s when the show began. Jamie kept his tongue to the underside of Roadhog’s fingers as he started bobbing his head forward and back. His bright eyes fell closed and his brow furrowed in concentration for his task at hand. 

Roadhog let out a low growl that resonated deep in his chest. Junkrat’s mouth was hot and so wet that spit slipped out from around ‘Hog’s fingers and dripped down Junkrat’s chin. Dripping with fluid was a good luck for Junkrat and it was refreshing to see his mouth being put to better use than just talking nonsense all day. But it wasn’t enough, Roadhog still had one hand that lay idle on Junkrat’s side and that wouldn’t do. Calloused fingers dragged up Junkrat’s chest, each touch stimulating the twitching muscle underneath. At the center of Junkrat’s chest his heart beat fast and hard enough to feel, it reminded ‘Hog of a panicked animal. Both seeking release.

His hand moved and ‘Hog’s thumb brushed against Junkrat’s nipple. Junkrat jumped in Roadhog’s lap, his squeak almost indiscernible with Roadhog’s thick fingers in his mouth. So it seemed Junkrat was sensitive. That was good, there was no fun in playing with something worn out.

“You like that, don’t you?” Roadhog purred, moving his thumb in circles around the nipple without actually touching it. Junkrat nodded weakly.

Roadhog took Junkrat’s nipple in between his thumb and forefinger, the small nub almost comically small in comparison. It didn’t stop him from getting a good enough grip on it to deliver a sharp pull that made Junkrat wail. Half closed eyes fluttered and Junkrat sucked harshly on Hog’s fingers trying to get some kind of response out of ‘Hog, but he would need to try harder than that. It was dark outside now, the clouds robbing any sunlight from the twilight hours. The light they did have was dim with the occasional bright flash of lightning paired quickly with a loud clap of thunder that seemed to shake the very earth.

Roadhog pulled his fingers out much to Junkrat’s disappointment. Junkrat tried chasing Junkrat’s fingers, sticking his tongue out as far as it could to follow after them. The action was enough to make Roadhog chuckle.

“If you wait, you’ll get your reward.” ‘Hog chastised as he watched Junkrat work aching his jaw side to side.

Junkrat smirked, his eyes flashing mischievously. “Problem with that is, I take what I want.”

“Not today. Today you’ll wait for everything I’ll give you.” Roadhog spit in his palm and reached down between them, taking both of their cocks in his hand. Junkrat lets out a high pitched moan as his back arches. “And you’ll thank me for it.”

It’s a fast and deliberate pace Roadhog sets as he starts to move his hand up and down. The spit helped ease the movements but with every pump ‘Hog’s hand got drier and drier, though Junkrat didn’t seem to mind. The blond was a mess, his head lolled back and when he wasn’t gasping for breath from his gaping mouth he was letting out curses and obscene moans. Junkrat braced his hand on Roadhog’s stomach and used the leverage to try and move his hips in time with Roadhog’s hand, but he was too twitchy to find the rhythm.

“That’s it, Mako.” Junkrat gasped, his fingers scratching into Roadhog’s skin. “Rub me raw! God!”

“You close, Jamie?” Roadhog purred, his thumb teasing the head of Junkrat’s cock.

“Fuckin’ fuck!” Junkrat couldn’t stop himself from squirming. Roadhog slid his hand down to Junkrat’s boney hip, digging into the flesh enough that he was sure it would leave bruises. Junkrat would probably love it, which was good because Roadhog wanted to mark him up until Junkrat was nothing but bites and bruises. That would have to be for another time, not when Roadhog could feel that familiar tension building low within him and knowing Junkrat was right there with him.

“C’mon, Jamie.” Roadhog started pumping as fast as he could making them both cry out in unison, Junkrat’s almost an octave higher than Roadhog’s deep moan.

“Oi! T-Take it down! I’m not gonna-” Junkrat cut himself short as he finally came, his mouth hanging open but no sound coming out. Odd, Roadhog would have assumed he was a screamer. No matter, they could try it again some other time.

Roadhog kept up his pace which made Junkrat squirm, the stimulation proving to be too much. He was almost in tears from the overstimulated pleasure and he kept making pathetic keening sounds with almost every stroke. Seeing Junkrat in such a state was an intoxicating sight, and with Junkrat’s cum working as an improvised lubricant it was easy for Roadhog to finally let himself go. He came hard ( _ how long has it been? _ ) into his hand, his cock throbbing with every spurt. 

Roadhog let out a long and satisfied sigh, his hand falling from their cocks down with the rest of him, laying back on the bedroll. He didn't even care that his hand was getting tacky from his and Junkrat's cum. It was as if all his tension from the past, well, lifetime had melted away and now he could just bask in the glow of his orgasm. Why hadn't he tried getting laid so much sooner? Maybe it was because there was never anyone Roadhog had met within the last twenty years who he would have trusted to hold hands with let alone near his dick. Not that he wanted to hold hands with Junkrat; even if the little bomber was exceptionally warm for someone as scrawny as he was. But he shouldn't dwell on such things, now was time to relax and enjoy the silence.

It lasted for about three seconds.

"Crickey Mako! Didn't think ya had it in ya!" Junkrat had popped up like someone lit a fire on his ass and he threw himself down on Roadhog's stomach, earning an uncomfortable grunt from the larger man. "Guess with ya bein' an old geezer we ain't ever gonna have more than a round at a time, or are ya gonna surprise me again?"

"Don't flatter yourself." Roadhog didn't even lift his head to speak.

"Ya wound me, but ya can't hide it no more! Ya liiiiiike me." Roadhog didn't need to see Junkrat to know he had the smuggest grin on his face, gold teeth flashing.

"But don't ya worry yourself none, cause I'm gonna let you in on another big secret of mine." Roadhog felt Jamie crawl up his stomach until they were face to face, Jamie grinning down at 'Hog just the way he imagined it. "I like ya too. Warts an' all."

"I don't h-"

"It's an expression, ya fuck!" Junkrat snapped, smacking his hand down on 'Hog's chest. It was probably meant to be forceful but Roadhog barely felt it. Junkrat cleared his throat to 'compose himself'. "Point bein', I think I could get used to doin' this kinda stuff more often. An' ya know, other shit too. If ya wanna."

Roadhog hummed, trying to imagine what that would even be like. Was Junkrat proposing an actual relationship, not just a simple partners-in-crime-with-benefits? Did that even exist? Oh well, there were many firsts out in the wasteland. It was a place where anything was possible because everyone was so deperate to survive they would be willing to try anything. But this wasn't about survival. This was about emotion and need that was dangerous to have and go against at the same time, overall a terrible mess that people were smart enough to abandon. Would it really work to be with Jamie? Is that what they were now? With each other? It had such different implications, different dynamics and behavior that had been abandoned by Roadhog long ago and probably never used by Junkrat.

But who knew, it could add something to them. Give them an actual edge over their enemies because they were a team based on trust and sentiment instead of money and obligation. Okay, maybe there was still a little of that too. Who said that was a bad thing? It certainly added more of a finality to their arrangement, a clear message to everyone they came across: You can't break us apart and we'll wreck your shit with everything our combined efforts have to offer. 'Hog liked that.

"I know I usually give jack shit whether ya talk or not, but I wanna actual answer for this one." JUnkrat pulled 'Hog out of his thoughts and back into the moment. Even in the dark Junkrat was still looking down at Hog, his amber eyes searching Roadhog's face for some kind of hint for what 'Hog was going to say. 

"It could be worth trying." Was his final response. It was noncommital, vague, all Roadhog could truly promise out of the endeavor.

It was enough.

Junkrat let out a whoop of victory and rolled off Roadhog to lay at his side. "Promise to make it real good for ya, Hoggie. ya won't regret this!"

'Hog closed his eyes, half litsening to Junkrat prattle on and letting the noise soothe him to sleep. It was better than the rain. In fact, Roadhog couldn't hear it at all.

"Shut up." Roadhog said, only slightly surprised when Junkrat obeyed. That was a perk to this he could get used to.

He had been right, though. The pounding of the rain against the tent had vanished, not even a few drops hitting every now and then. When had the storm stopped?

"Storm's gone." Junkrat whispered, catching on.

A grunt.

"Think we can hit the edge tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

Junkrat rolled over on his side, wrapping himself around 'Hog's large arm. "Can't believe I'm sayin' it, but I can't wait for the sun to be up."

It seemed they were having one of those rare moments where Roadhog was in complete agreement. But as Junkrat slowly drifted off into sleep, his warm body pressed close and the sound of his gentle snoring filling the silence of the tent Roadhog found himself content to wait a few more hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really a pain in the butt (ha) to write! Not to mention when I finally finished it the cable had accidentally been cut at my house because we were redoing our fence which pushed posting this two days later. BUT it's done internet is restored and we can all move on! Thank you all for your patience!!!  
> My tumblr is fatlittlefroge if any of you would like to talk to me! I'd love to hear from you all :)


	10. Errori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Junkers finally hit the big leagues. And miss.  
> My tumblr is fatlittlefroge, come talk to me!

It shouldn’t have been this way. God, how could it have fallen apart so fast? It was supposed to be perfect, perfect for the both of them.  _ Perfect for Jamie. _

They were better than this, especially when it was the both of them combined. They thought themselves unstoppable, they  _ had been  _ unstoppable. But they didn’t make considerations in the plan for the cameras, or the fire, or the lack of integrity of the building.

Roadhog couldn’t breathe right, he needed his hydrogen boost in his mask but there just wasn’t any time for it, even as they world began to narrow into smaller and smaller tunnels in Roadhog’s vision. He shoved away the shattered concrete slabs, the boards of wood, waving away any of the dust or smoke that rose up from the disturbed rubble.

_ “Shit, I hear the cops comin’ back. If I blow the wall in the back we can make our escape that way.” _

Those were the last words he had heard Junkrat say and he refused to let them be the last.

The further ‘Hog dug the more frantic he became when each turned over piece didn’t reveal Junkrat. Roadhog refused to accept the more likely options of what had happened to the blond and focused all his being on digging. Nothing else mattered, not the wailing sirens that grew louder as the cops got closer, not his lack of breath, not even the way his shoulder stung with each swing of his arm aggravating the gunshot wound and the bullet lodged squarely into the muscle of his shoulder. 

If he kept going he would find Junkrat. He just had to get deeper.

“ _ Jamison _ !” He roared.

\-----

Leaving the day had been hard. Not in the sense that either of them wanted to stay, as far as they were both concerned it was high time they got out of their tent and ambush-waiting-to-happen canyon. The tricky part was figuring out what to take with them and what to leave behind. Food and water were the most important and they planned on stuffing Junkrat’s sidecar with it along with any valuable scrap from the omnic delivery they intercepted.

The rain had damaged almost everything that had been left outside but even so the two men searched the camp three times over to make sure they got everything they wanted.

“It’s filthy omnic shit,” Junkrat spat, kicking one of the crates with his boot. “But that don’t mean we gotta pass up the opportunity to sling it off to some drongo willin’ to pay a pretty penny for it.”

Junkrat’s sidecar was stuffed haphazardly with their supplies, all of it secured by a long rope that Junkrat had looped around the entire sidecar multiple times before tying it tight. Roadhog took one look at it and knew for a fact that it would all go flying about halfway through their travel at top speed. He would make Junkrat pick it all up off the road.

Junkrat settled behind Roadhog on the bike, long arms only reaching halfway around him. Junkrat’s pointed chin digs into ‘Hog’s shoulder from behind, a wicked grin threatening to tear the blond’s face in two.

“Ya know, thought the whole point of the car was so I don’t gotta do this.” Junkrat’s voice was light to try and feign some kind of innocence. It didn’t suit him. “Or do ya feel a little frisky after last night? Eh, ‘Roadie? Gotta scratch you gotta itch? I can itch it for ya.” 

Roadhog felt Junkrat hump him from behind like some kind of dog. With an annoyed growl Roadhog leaned back with all of his weight, crushing Junkrat down against the seat. Underneath him Junkrat wheezed and dug his hands into Roadhog’s back as he attempted to push off the much heavier man. After a few more seconds of desperate grunting and gasping Roadhog sat back up again. Junkrat gasped for breath and adjusted himself back into a proper seated position.

“Ya cock.”

\-----

Feeble coughing of dust filled lungs. That had been Roadhog’s saving grace, or rather Junkrat’s since it was what helped the bodyguard finally find his employer underneath all the ruined building. It had come ten feet to the left of where Roadhog had been digging and ‘Hog threw himself over to toss away all the wreckage. 

After one final push a large block of cement, maybe something once part of the walls or roof but  _ who cared _ , Junkrat was finally free. He was face down with his limbs sprawled out in different directions. Well, his remaining limbs anyway. The building must have crushed the arm  and his pegleg was all but demolished, splintered in half and unreliable to hold much weight for even short periods of time. 

None of that mattered. What did matter was that Junkrat was alive, beaten and blood but  _ alive. _

Roadhog reached down and gathered up Junkrat in his arms, gently tucking him against his chest. Junkrat would make small grunts of pain when he was being moved but otherwise he remained silent. As if the situation didn’t feel dire enough.

The sirens were practically screaming in ‘Hog’s ears, it could be seconds before they were found again, the giant mushroom cloud of smoke and dust probably didn’t do much for their discretion.

The bike was worn out from the chase and low on gas but it would get the job done, it always did. Roadhog gripped the handles with only one free hand, the other still cradling a very much delirious Junkrat. Even if the sidecar was still attached (it  _ wasn’t  _ thanks to some cop who somehow missed and shot his target at the same time) Roadhog still probably would have held on to ‘Rat, not trusting a hollow piece of metal to keep him safe. 

The engine stuttered for a moment before roaring to life. Without a sense of direction Roadhog set out deeper into the city. Any place would be better than where they were now.

\-----

When they came to a stop Junkrat scrambled off the back of the bike like one of his bombs had accidentally been lit in his pants. His pegleg sunk down into the sand as he hit the ground making him wobble with imbalance but that was hardly where his attention was.

The sea always seemed to unaffected by everything that made Australia so terrible. Unlike the acidic water that seemed to take on a dull brownish color, the ocean maintained its rich blue color that sparkled in the harsh sunlight. Even the smell of it remained the same, the salty breeze refreshing against sun dried skin.

Junkrat was full on sprinting out towards the water, his awkward gait causing him to stumble every couple of steps which did nothing to deter him. Roadhog half thought Junkrat was planning on jumping in. Roadhog sighed and dismounted his bike, ready to go after his boss since it was more than likely the skinny kid couldn’t swim.

‘Hog had expected screaming from Junkrat, maybe manic gesturing at the very least. But that wasn’t the case.

Inches from where the waves lapped against the sand Junkrat came to a stop, panting for breath but otherwise silent. His amber eyes scanned the bright horizon to watch the light gleam against the rolling waves.

Roadhog came up next to Junkrat, his feet crunching in the sand the only sound he made. He had already seen the ocean, both before and after and not much had changed about it on the surface. So instead ‘Hog focused on Junkrat instead, studying his awestruck face complete with wide eyes and a hanging jaw. 

“It’s blue.” Junkrat’s voice was small.

Roadhog grunted his agreement.

“I’ve seen the sky be blue before, but bugger me if this ain’t the bluest ya ever will see.” Junkrat still wasn’t looking away from the ocean. “How ya reckon we cross it?”

“Airport. Couple miles east.”

“Why we stop here then?”   
Roadhog forwent his response to look out to the ocean again. In the distance waves built themselves up and crested against the water.

“Oh,” ‘Rat smiled and nodded his head slowly. “The silence.”

‘Hog reached out next to him, placing one of his giant hands on Junkrat’s shoulder. Together the two of them watched the ocean for what felt like hours.

\-----

The owner of the motel didn’t ask any questions. Though in retrospect it had everything to do with the loaded barrel of a scrap gun being pointed right at his face as gravelly commands were being made for a room key and the utmost discretion. If he talked, if the police were called, he would be dead long before the flashing lights even came into view.

Junkrat was laid on the bed and Roadhog finally had time to look over his injuries properly without distraction.

Soot and dirt had blown off most of his body during the ride but some of it still clung to his skin, mostly around his face and chest which were covered in sweat. Even underneath the grime injuries were evident. Bruises and scrapes were littered all over his body, some of the deeper ones in need of cleaning but could be put off later (you didn’t get to live long as a Junker unless you could survive getting dirt in your wounds). Though there was one spot on Jamie’s side that worried ‘Hog, a deep purple bruise that covered half of his bottom ribs on that side. Chances were a couple of those ribs were fractured, the only good sign being that there wasn’t a noticeable dent that indicated an actual break. Roadhog couldn’t remember when that happened and for all he knew it could have been when the building collapsed.

Anger came to Roadhog in a burning flash, his blood boiling and pounding in his ears. He hated every second that he didn’t have control of a situation and that entire night had been nothing but chaos. Roadhog couldn’t keep it all together and because of his mistakes everything had failed and he almost killed Junkrat.

He was a failure and for all his strength he could do nothing but watch everything crumble to pieces around him.

Again.

\-----

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, mate!” Junkrat locked his fingers and stretched his arms over his head. “Never thought that flight would end!”

Roadhog couldn’t have agreed more and so could every other passenger on that flight.

Convincing Junkrat to dismantle all of his bombs to be stored for baggage had been the first challenge. The blond treated every explosive like it was his child and threw a big enough fit to be labeled one himself. It took two hours of arguing and threatening on both ends before Junkrat finally relented, though he complained the entire time it took him to take them all apart.

Getting through security had been as rough as expected. The two Junkers created a hilariously contrasting image when compared to the citizens around them. The fusion core had permanently altered the landscape of the Outback but there were areas of Australia that remained untouched by its destruction. Life went on normally for them and it was an unspoken boundary between them and the Junkers of the Outback. It wasn’t a surprise when they got pulled aside for an extra check. That didn’t mean Junkrat was any less angry.

“What, ya wanna take my arm an’ leg?” Junkrat yelled in retaliation of the security guard’s request to scan the artificial limbs. “Why don’t ya shove that fancy little wand up my ass so ya can see if I got a robotic shitter too!”

Roadhog put up less of a fight, but if the guards wanted him to remove his mask he would never know because they never dared ask.

And then the plane ride.  _ God the plane ride.  _ Roadhog took up a row all by himself but ‘Rat had refused to sit anywhere but right next to his bodyguard even if it meant squeezing himself in between Roadhog and the armrest which pressed relentlessly into his side.

But that wasn’t even the worst part.

About five minutes after being airborne Junkrat’s body decided that turbulence was not good. Thankfully there wasn’t much food in ‘Rat’s body to wretch up but it didn’t stop him from dry heaving for another hour. The sound and smell of it was disgusting even through Roadhog’s mask. Anyone who left brave enough to dare look over at Junkrat earned a sharp look right back from Roadhog, and that stopped them from looking again. Roadhog passed Junkrat his third barf bag, his other hand rubbing soothing circles on the hunched back.

Sickness took its toll and Junkrat passed out sometime around the fourth hour of the flight, pressed up against Roadhog’s side and drooling ever so slightly against his arm. He remained that way until they landed in Florence.

“I’m tellin’ ya, this place is ripe for the takin’.” Junkrat jabbed Roadhog with his elbow as if he wasn’t paying attention. “An’ I’ve been mullin’ it over an’ I think I know jus’ the place to start.”

\-----

Cleaning up Jamie was tender work, something Roadhog wasn’t used to. He couldn’t remember the last time he had ever helped heal a person. Well, that was a lie. He remembered one time over fifteen years ago.

“Always picking up the pieces for you.” Roadhog sighed to unconscious ears.

A small medkit had been found underneath the sink in the bathroom, a bottle of disinfectant and gauze the most important things to be accounted for. Painkillers could be found (stolen) later.

Most of the cuts didn’t need dressing. Junkrat’s body instinctively flinched every time a disinfected cottonball came into contact with a wound, nerves still reacting even when ‘Rat was out cold. Only his leg really needed it, a bullet wound that had cleared its way through his thigh on his bad leg that still bled when provoked. ‘Hog took it upon himself to remove the shambles of Roadhog’s leg, setting it down on the carpet beside the bed. 

The rush of nearby traffic outside could be heard through the thin walls of the room and inside the ceiling fan provided a constant, soft buzzing sound. It was too quiet.

Roadhog reached behind himself and unclipped his mask. It slid off his face reluctantly and into his palm. It didn’t stay empty for long as ‘Hog placed the mask securely over Junkrat’s face. If this didn’t wake him up nothing would.

The hydrogen canister was still intact despite everything and positioned it against one of the filters. With a flick of his thumb the cap came off and hydrogen rushed into the mask.

One second. Two seconds. A minute. This was too long. 

Nerves finally caught up with Mako for the first time that night. They were supposed to come out of this okay, they made it all this way together and came  _ so far  _ for it just to fall apart like this. 

It was all his fault.

\-----

Hitting a museum had seemed like such a good idea at the time. It wasn’t about the money of robbing the place but rather about making a statement. Junkrat had explained all the details about the significance about blowing up a place where, “People go to sit on their asses an’ look at colors. Who the fuck got time for shit like that? Makes my blood boil thinkin’ ‘bout it right now, eh ‘Hog?”

Roadhog thought art could be pretty sometimes, but Junkrat didn’t need to know that.

After that it was a series of mistakes.

‘Hog should have thought to watch out for the security cameras out back behind the museum. He shouldn’t have depended on the police being terrible shots as they tried to make their getaway on his bike. One stray bullet meant for Junkrat’s head lodged itself in the elbow joint and done enough damage to render the arm limp and useless. The endless list of curses from Junkrat were drowned out by the sirens and gunfire.

“Mako, we gotta get these badges off our tails!” Even then it struck Roadhog as odd that Junkrat used his name during such a desperate time. “I gotta plan.”

Unscrewing the sidecar after it had been stuffed with explosives was difficult especially when the bike was moving.Thankfully ‘Rat still had his tools in his pocket from when he was trying to set up the detonator at the museum. Roadhog had to keep one hand wrapped tightly around Junkrat as he bent down to do everything one handed. 

With a final crash the sidecar came free and shot backwards towards the police cars still chasing them. Junkrat exchanged his screwdriver for one of his grenades and pulled the pin with his teeth, using all his might to throw it back with the package.

The chain of explosions was so bright that everything seemed to go white for a moment. When Roadhog’s ears stopped ringing he could hear Jamie’s hysteric laughter as he clung tightly to ‘Hog. 

“Did ya see that?  _ Did ya see that?!” _

Roadhog laughed with him. God he had missed the thrill of jobs like this, it was such a rush! ‘Hog’s heart was beating out of his chest and his whole body was shaking from the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He was drunk on the sensation.

Junkrat pointed off to his left. “Oi, pull over! I think I see a warehouse up ahead.”

\-----

Junkrat gasped and shot up from the bed. The mask flew off his face and to the floor while Junkrat looked wildly around. He was still in threat-mode and Roadhog gripped his shoulders to catch his attention.

“Jamie, Jamie, it’s fine.” 

“Fuck! Fuck!” Junkrat gasped, his whole body shaking. “What happened?”

“The bomb caused a fire in the rafters and the whole building came down.”

“The cops?”

Roadhog smirked. “Shook ‘em.”

Junkrat let out a long sigh and leaned forward against ‘Hog. The action must have irritated his ribs because Junkrat let out a long hiss of pain.

“Feel like I’ve been put in a blender.”

Roadhog put his arms around Junkrat, holding him close. It felt right. 

“You’re alive.”

Junkrat laughed and shook his head against Roadhog’s shoulder.  “Ya softie. Wanna braid our hair an’ talk ‘bout our feelin’s?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooow this chapter felt confusing to write. I think I looped it all together alright but if I left any confusing gaps let me know and I'll try to fix them.  
> I'm going to be moving into my dorm and doing a bunch of college stuff soon. Hopefully that won't effect the rate the chapters get out but only time will tell. Thank you all for your support!


	11. Give and Take

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Junkrat is alone he has plenty of time to think. Historically, that's always been a bad idea.

Junkrat stared up at the ceiling, memorizing the erratic bumps and patterns from the vermiculite. The last motel they stayed at had dropped ceilings and made him feel even more claustrophobic than normal. ‘Rat wasn’t sure how ‘Hog could stand it when he was close to bumping his head with every step he took.

Though most of the time it was hard to get a read on anything Roadhog was thinking. He was the very essence of the strong silent type. The mask even took away any kind of facial cues making it even more infuriating to try and figure out what the behemoth bodyguard wanted.

Sometimes though, they clicked and it was the best feeling in the world. It was so effortless too, like their minds were connected like the wiring of one of his detonators. Junkrat wouldn’t even have to look at Roadhog or hear a word from him Junkrat just  _ knew.  _ And when it all came together they were the perfect maelstrom of destruction. Even in the chaos of their last failed heist they managed minimal damage to a museum, blew up an entire block and a warehouse, and probably killed at least a dozen cops and God knew how many civvies. 

It was the time of thing that carried Junkrat’s mood throughout their hiding and would even make him laugh if his ribs didn’t hurt so fucking much.

What was he even thinking about again? Oh, right, Mako. Roadhog. ‘Hog. Hoggie, Roadie, heifer, partner, chum, mate, boyfriend.

Junkrat scoffed at his own mind. Fuck if that was what they were. 

What even were they? If that wasn’t the question of the fucking century that Junkrat asked himself every ten minutes.

Everything to come out of the Outback was distorted and confusing, not just physically but mentally and emotionally as well. The line between emotional connections and basic human needs was so blurred that you couldn’t look at it right even under a microscope. Who knew if fucking someone was because you cared or because you would go batshit if you didn’t touch another person.

“But it wouldn’t be fuckin’ then, would it?” Junkrat sighed heavily, drumming his fingers against the bedspread. “Be makin’ love.” 

The word sounded gross and foreign on his tongue when it was used in that kind of context. Like he was saying something in another language. Junkrat practiced the word a couple more times in different pitches and speeds, letting it roll through his mouth.

“Jesus, Roadie leaves for food an’ I’m talkin’ to myself like some nutter.” Junkrat smirked at his own joke. “Gonna tell him that one when he gets back. Give him a good chuckle.”

_ He’s not coming back. _

“Aw hell, c’mon.” Junkrat rolled over to his side to face the door. “He ain’t gone nowhere far. Jus’ gettin’ some supplies is all.”

_ Everything was ruined and it was all your fault. He’s glad to be rid of you. _

“Naw. We gotta deal.”

_ You promised him riches and you never delivered. He only put up with you because he had nowhere else to go. You had one chance and you fucked up. _

Junkrat squeezed his eyes shut, but he knew it wouldn’t help. It never helped. 

It started a long time ago and for a while Junkrat thought he got a handle on it. Didn’t matter what his head said when all he needed to focus on was what needed to be done to survive.

Then Roadhog came along.

Junkrat could start thinking of all sorts of things when Roadhog was around. He was a buffer between Junkrat and the rest of the world, a comfortable shield in the form of a humanesque wrecking ball. Looking back on it Junkrat realized how much he took Roadhog for granted.

Because, God, when Roadhog would look at him and talk to him it was like the whole world had been lit up in one gigantic explosion. It made Junkrat feel warm down to the tips of his toes (the ones he could still feel). Roadhog didn’t talk to no one, but he would talk to him. Sometimes not even out of obligation! 

There were jokes, small observations when things went quiet, and every now and again Roadhog would remind him to be careful or not to do anything stupid.

Made a bloke feel like the most important guy around.

_ And now he’s gone. Proved how important you are to him. _

Junkrat opened his eyes to stare at the door to the motel room. It was old and the wood had scratches all over it from years of neglect and inconsiderate customers; even the gold paint on the doorknob was chipped and worn down into a dull grey.

If Jamie focused he could imagine Mako walking right through that door, apologizing for how late he was and telling the hilarious story of how he got so caught up at the grocery store.

That only made Junkrat feel worse.

“Fuck! That’s not him at all.” He chastised his brain for coming up with such a bastardized image in the first place.

_ Worthless. Unlovable. Dirty. Stupid stupid stupid. _

Junkrat could only get angrier as the tears started rolling down the side of his face and on to the sheets. Was he a fucking baby now? Is that it? Pathetic. He was better than to get all snot-nosed over some nobody bodyguard who would probably die in five years from a heart attack.

Who was he kidding?

When the door opened it was easy to say that Junkrat was caught off guard. It would be longer but more truthful to say that being caught in his self inflicted pity party startled him enough to throw himself backwards with enough force to fall off the side of the bed.

“Fuckin’ God damn ya, ‘Hog!” Junkrat didn’t try and get up. At the moment the bed provided adequate cover to wipe his eyes and collect himself. The last thing he wanted was Roadhog catching on and making a big deal out of the whole thing. “Can’t ya learn to knock?”

“You’re welcome.” Roadhog retorted in a dry voice, walking past where Junkrat was lying to set the groceries on the table.

Junkrat waited, his whole body tense. Surely the big lug would say something, this was odd behavior even for him. He had to notice.

That’s why when Roadhog stood there organizing the food he had just bought all of Junkrat’s fear and anxiety made the quick flip into boiling anger.

Just who the fuck did Roadhog think he was, taking years to get the groceries and leaving Junkrat to fret about the motel room like some nervous wife. Junkrat was the boss here, not the other way around!

_ How could he respect a child who spends all day crying? _

Junkrat grasped at the sheets of the bed. They provided decent leverage to pull himself up on to his foot; no way was he going to do this laying down, even if he had to keep a grip on the bed for support.

Junkrat cleared his throat as a precaution just to make sure his voice wasn’t still weak from his crying. Plus, it seemed authoritative. “Where the hell have ya been all freakin’ day?” He demanded.

Roadhog lifted up a plastic bag full of food in lieu of a response. He didn’t even bother to turn around, all Junkrat could see was his fat back. The sheer indignity of it had Junkrat grinding his teeth together.

“How was I to know if somethin’ happened to ya? My gimpy ass couldn’t cross the room to snag the remote an’ turn on the news even if I wanted to.”

“Not my fault that happened.”

The words struck Jamie like a bullet to the chest. He knew it. He knew Roadhog blamed him for the failed hit, hell he probably blamed him for everything. And he wouldn’t be wrong to do it.

Jamie hated feeling this way, he hated every rotten second of it and the worst part was that it was all coming from Roadhog. Ever since Jamie could remember he had other people putting him down, telling him he wasn’t worth anything and would probably die in the streets of Junkertown within the week. He never let it bother him; in fact their complete lack of faith was what fueled him to prove them all wrong.

But hearing those kind of things from ‘Hog and it was like the world was falling apart around him. It was such a hot and cold experience to be with Roadhog. There were those moments together that made Jamie so happy it was as if he was among the stars, and then there were these kind of moments when one wrong word from Roadhog sent Jamie into a spiralling depression.

It wasn’t fair, how come Roadhog mattered so much to him but vice versa? The guilt and pain ate away at Junkrat’s very core. He couldn’t take another second of it.

“If that’s what ya think, at least look me in the eyes when ya say it!” Junkrat reached behind him and blindly groped for something that would get Roadhog’s attention.

It was a blur of movement. Junkrat’s fingers came into contact with something solid and that was all it took for him to get his hand around it and chuck it at Roadhog with all his might. The object (possibly an alarm clock? Why wasn’t it plugged into the wall? Maybe the force of the throw dislodged it) flew threw the air and smacked Roadhog right in the back of the head. But before Junkrat could even savor the moment Roadhog was suddenly on him, and not in the good way. His barrelling force pushed him off his already unsteady footing and down on the bed.

Roadhog was on top of him, his forearm pressed hard against Junkrat’s throat with the rest of his massive weight effectively pinning down the smaller man. It was hard to breathe and Junkrat was wheezing for breath. He felt a little lightheaded and honestly unconsciousness was welcome at this point.

Junkrat met ‘Hog’s eyes, the glass reflecting his own glare right back at him. Deep in the back of Roadhog’s throat came a threatening growl.

“Fuckin’ do it!” Junkrat spat, wasting the last bit of air he had left.

Roadhog pressed harder and this was it. This was how he died. He had always hoped it would be in some grand explosion, preferably taking down a couple hundred omnics with him in some fancy city somewhere. At least Mako would be the last thing he saw.

Roadhog sat up and Junkrat gasped as air rapidly filled his lungs again.

Junkrat couldn’t look at Roadhog, even behind a mask ‘Rat could tell what kind of expression he had. Roadhog only ever relented out of pity.

“You’re crying.” Junkrat flinched away from the deep voice.

“Rack off, no I’m not.” Junkrat reached up to rub his eye and his wet cheek told a contrary story. When did he even start crying again?

“Why?”

“I said knock it off! It ain’t nothin’ you’d understand anyway.” Junkrat sniffed.

_ Pathetic. _

Large hands reached for Junkrat and there was a thrill of panic at the prospect of getting strangled again. Roadhog waited for Junkrat to stop struggling before picking him up and holding him in a secure hug.

Roadhog’s shoulder was far more comforting than Junkrat would like to admit, and he rested his cheek against the hairy skin. “The fuck is this? Ya got some real hot an’ cold type of shit, mate.”

“That’s you.”

“Not jus’ me! You’re just as bad.” Junkrat looked down. “It ain’t fair.”

Roadhog’s silence was a prompting to continue.

“Fuck, why ya gotta make me say it?” Junkrat hit his head against Roadhog’s shoulder. “I care ‘bout ya, alright? An’ when you’re gone I get all empty like someone picked out all my insides. An’ there’s times when you’re nice to me an’ it makes me feel not like garbage an’ those few seconds are worth all those times when ya couldn’t give two shits ‘bout me. But sometimes it hurts thinkin’ ‘bout those times. I wanna think its equal an’ ya feel the same way but I know ya don’t and it’s not fair. When ya like someone so much shouldn’t they have to like ya back? To make the pain worth it.Ya don’t gotta say nothin’ cause I know ya don’t wanna. I wouldn’t say nothin’ either. Can’t blame ya.” Junkrat smiled despite the ache in his chest.

“You’re wrong.”

Junkrat shook his head. “I don’t know a whole lot ‘bout this stuff but I know how I feel, alright?”

“About me. I care.”

Junkrat pulled away from Roadhog sharply, giving his mask an incredulous look. “Ya what?”

Roadhog sighed, the sound rattling through the filters of ‘Hog’s mask. “You’re young, and you have an attention span of five minutes.”

“Watch it.”

“What I mean is, do you really think this’ll last?”

“Ya don’t make it seem that likely.” Junkrat grumbled.

One of Roadhog’s hands pressed against Junkrat’s back. The steady weight of it was soothing. “I didn’t want to push you.”

The admission got a bark of a laugh out of Junkrat. “Ya serious? I’ve been gettin’ nothin’ from ya this entire time cause you’ve been scared? The hell could scare a bloke like yourself?”

Roadhog was silent, but it wasn’t his usual silence. It was tense and built on Junkrat’s already fried nerves.

“Mako? Ya good?”

“I don’t want to hurt you again.”

Junkrat threw his head back with laughter. “A little late to that party, eh Mr. Suffocation?”

‘Hog’s hand gripped Junkrat’s bicep, just above the stump. His thumb gently brushed against the slightly faded tattoo decorating Junkrat’s shoulder, it sent shivers down Junkrat’s spine.

Roadhog’s deep voice shook Junkrat’s very soul. “We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this'll be the last chapter for a bit while I start doing college stuff! I'll leave you on a bit of a cliffhanger  
> I pray you all will be patient with me for awhile. You all have been so kind and supportive of me but I can't help but fear that I'll be forgotten amidst the sea of other incredible works out there if I'm not updating regularly. (Kind of feels that way already). But! I will be back as soon as I can :)  
> As always, feedback for my chapters is appreciated and I'd love to talk with you all on my tumblr fatlittlefrog!


	12. Burn It Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out and goes about as well as expected

The words spilled out of Roadhog’s mouth before he ever got a chance to stop himself. The weight that had burdened him for so long fell from his shoulders in an instant, but in no means did it leave. The atmosphere of the room became heavy with the guilt of Roadhog’s  confession. It was hard to breathe.

Junkrat, an already nervous boy who survived by being able to sense the room, didn’t take it well. His fingers tapped erratically against Roadhog’s chest.

“Oi, ain’t a good time for the silent treatment.” With Junkrat’s position on ‘Hog’s lap he tried to peek through the eyes of Roadhog’s mask. His tone was trying to be light but the nervousness crept in with the slight waver in his voice at the end. “What do ya wanna talk ‘bout?” 

Talking, what a horrible concept. Roadhog wanted to rip his tongue out and never say anything again, even though he was the one to suggest their soon to be conversation. If he confessed everything now they would cross a point of no return. Junkrat would be upset, rightfully so. Roadhog wouldn’t be surprised if the younger man would break off their deal and never wanted to speak to him again.

Roadhog didn’t mourn the former nearly as much as the prospect of the latter.

Roadhog had never noticed how much of a presence Jamie had made in his life in the short time they spent together. Junkrat was a warm body next to him at night, he was a chattering voice that kept him grounded in the silence of the wasteland, he was all the energy and life that had withered away after the blast both in the land and in Mako himself.

Jamie was a pair of chapped lips spread into a wide grin that Mako had been too hesitant to kiss the first time they came together.

Now it would be the last time too.

His hand was still holding Junkrat’s bad arm. It felt light in his grip, warm like the rest of him except for the rim at the end where metal plating met scar tissue. Hundreds of Junkers were afflicted with the same disability, Roadhog had seen them around ever since the blast; but it only took one specific arm to bring Roadhog to the pile of shame he was now.

“Roadie? C’mon, ya can’t just bring this shit up an’ then not say nothin’.” Junkrat poked the snout of Roadhog’s mask.

“Ten years ago I was in Junkertown. No specific reason, it was a place to go when you were low on cash and needed a few easy scores. Maybe if I had been there for a better purpose I wouldn’t feel as bad as I do. But it was nothing, I was there for maybe two days.

It was a small job and I was nothing more than muscle for it. I was in charge of busting down the safes and taking care of any of the heavy duty guards. They were after drugs, medication found in those backalley corners from people who used to care for other in an earlier life. We raided over half of Junkertown and kept it stored in a decrepit house tucked away in the southeast part of town,”

Junkrat shoved himself out of Roadhog’s grip with all of his remaining strength, though Roadhog let Junkrat slip from him without any kind of fight. 

Junkrat coiled in on himself, a gesture meant to imitate a snake about to strike but all Roadhog saw was a rat ready to run.

“I don’t like this story.” Junkrat’s voice wavered.

His words fell on deaf ears. It was like a mental dam burst inside of Mako and he just couldn’t stop himself. His throat hurt as he continued to speak, strained from being used this much all at once.

“We kept a perimeter at first, but we got cocky. Someone should have been keeping guard to make sure scavengers didn’t get in.” It was so easy to blame someone else other than him, but that wasn’t why ‘Hog was telling the story. “But they did. A starving boy slipped in and stuffed his pockets with bottles of pills. He didn’t get far.”

Junkrat dug the heel of his palm into his ear, but he had nothing to cover the other one. The sound that came to him could be likened to a pained animal.

“Thieves aren’t tolerated anywhere, but there’s a popular rule in Junkertown when a thief is caught. Death, or amputation of the offending hand.

We didn’t have anything for that with us, short of a gun which would have been messy. I was the strongest out of us all, and I was given a knife. He begged, the flailed but we were men and he was just a boy. Couldn’t shake us no matter how much he tried. In the end it only took one swing. The small grace.”

“Grace?” Junkrat snapped upright, his expression manic. “I can still feel it, mate. The pain as if it were still there. It itches an’ throbs every  _ fuckin’ night _ !”

Roadhog flinched as Junkrat’s voice quickly escalated into screaming.

“I thought I needed the pills then,” Junkrat barked out a cruel laugh. “Boy I was never so wrong! Did ya know that by the time I found a doc to fix me up somethin’ new I was already infected? Had to saw away two inches of bone an’ skin that rotted through. Not enough whiskey in the world to dull ya for that.”

Roadhog could see the tears falling down Junkrat’s cheeks, leaving new, clean trails over dirt covered skin.

On his two good limbs Junkrat crawled to ‘Hog. he got close, too close always too close and there were moments when that was what ‘Hog wanted but not now.

A gnarled hand reached for the mask, grabbing it by the snout and pulling sharply. The straps stayed true but dug painfully into the back of Roadhog’s head. Roadhog let out an irritated grunt.

Junkrat grit his teeth and pulled harder. “Take. It. Off.” Each word was accented by another tug and dripping with malice. “I wanna see your face when ya say ya did it.”

Junkrat tried pulling the mask up with more success. It scraped painfully over Roadhog’s jaw and chin but after that it slid off with little resistance.

The brighter lights made Roadhog squint at first, Junkrat slightly blurry before him, but the angry face came quickly back into adjustment.

Junkrat’s amber eyes were scanning Roadhog’s face, searching for something. The corners of his mouth twitched both up and down, confused on how to properly express in this moment. Maybe he expected Roadhog to laugh loudly and say something along the lines of  _ Got ya!  _ But that wasn’t what would happen.

There would be no more excuses, no more repressed memories and brushed away answers. Mako was done cowering in his guilt.

“Sorry.”

Junkrat seemed to deflate. His face fell and he looked completely lost.

Then he got angry.

His entire face became contorted, his bushy eyebrows knit tightly together and his his lip curled up into a snarl that showed off his mangled teeth. His only hand was clenched in a fist so tight that his knuckles went white and he used it to beat against Roadhog’s chest as hard as he could. Roadhog remained still as each blow struck him.

“You fuckin’  _ fuck!  _ Drongo piece of of shit! Fat son of a whore!” Junkrat spat new curses with every blow.

As Roadhog let Junkrat go on the punches became weaker and slower. His fist became loose until he was slapping Roadhog’s chest more than punching him. Junkrat dropped his head as he came to a stop, his hand resting against ‘Hog’s chest.

“How long did ya know it was me?” It wasn’t more than a broken whisper. Roadhog didn’t need to answer. As the silence rolled on Junkrat continued to break down. Dirty nails dug into tan skin, Junkrat’s hand shaking as he tried and failed to keep himself together.

“Out.” It was so quiet Roadhog wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not.

Junkrat lifted his head and he pushed Roadhog away from him. “Out!  _ Out! Get out!”  _

Roadhog moved himself off the bed so fast it was like he was burned. His mind felt completely blank but his body acted out of instinct. He was still in his civilian clothes which was the only mercy of the whole situation as he left the motel room and stepped outside. When he got out on the road ‘Hog had no idea where he was going as he went down street after street.

In the Outback there were hardly ever any roads and Roadhog always kept his bearings about him. There was always the sun that rose in the east and set in the west, and there had been Jamie on his right. Now he was in a city with a million signs and roads. He couldn’t see the sun over the tall buildings and Junkrat was left miles behind.

Roadhog had never felt so lost.

\-----

As soon as Roadhog had left Junkrat immediately wished he would come back. Like hours before he was left staring at a closed door. 

Roadhog’s mask laid forgotten on the bed. Junkrat’s eyes slipped down to it and slowly he reached out to take it. The leather was still warm.

Logically he knew he had every right to feel angry at Roadhog but then why did he only feel an empty ache in his chest? He had nothing anymore, couldn’t he at least have his anger? Junkrat fell back on the bed, curling in on himself with the mask held firmly to his chest. 

He hated feeling this way. He was constantly being pulled in every direction all at once. It was so dizzying and confusing most times Jamie was left afterwards not knowing which way was up. But then he had Roadhog.

He was the one person Junkrat could trust in their horrible, chaotic world. He trusted the behemoth more than he trusted himself. Roadhog could see right through all of Junkrat’s bullshit and wouldn’t run away from it. No one else had ever been like that. No one had ever stayed before and just for awhile Junkrat had gotten his hopes up that this time it would be different. But now it was apparent that Roadhog's intentions were far from his own.

It was all a lie. Maybe his treasure was enticing but it was clear to see 'Hog had only stuck around out of obligation. He probably thought Junkrat was the same stupid child who he mutilated all those years ago. He wasn't that far off. But he certainly wasn't there because he actually  _liked_ the skinny bomber. There were no redeeming qualities about Junkrat. At all. After that night in the tent 'Rat had been foolish enough to think that didn't matter to Mako.

_ You didn’t deserve to be happy. That’s why it’s all gone. _

Junkrat squeezed his eyes tight, feeling the tears slowly drip down his face.

_ The world is cruel and wrong. It should all burn. Burn it down, let it fall to the fire and you will be reborn in the ashes. _

Junkrat shook his head and buried his face deep into the sheets, a pathetic whine emitting from the back of his throat. Words like that had motivated him before, lit a fire in him that he wanted to use to consume the world. Now they were hollow. Words that floated around in his head that held no meaning anymore. Junkrat’s vision of a charcoal wasteland had inspired him for years but only now did he realize what it would really be.

Lonely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh so sorry this chapter is short! ;^;  
> I know which direction I want to go with this but I felt like it would be good to end this chapter where it was. I'd like to know what you all think, though!


	13. Alone at Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of mind, out of sight. Right?

Jamie whined with every throb of his arm, tossing his head back to beat it against the wall behind him.

This was the latest hiding spot he had found, tucking himself away in the corner of an alley between a bar and a garbage dump. Over the last few years he had grown rapidly, his body stretching out in gangly limbs too big for the rest of his body. Everything about it was terrible and Junkrat tended to stumble over himself often, not to mention it made him seem much older than he was. Nobody tended to pick fights with children but Jamie was taller than some adults he knew which meant other Junkers saw him as an adult as well with the possibility of having something valuable on him. 

Jamie sometimes dreamt that he grew into a giant, towering down over the ants formerly known as the Junker society, kicking over buildings and stomping on the scurrying people below him. He would laugh and turn away from the wasteland, making his way towards the bigger cities until all of Australia was in flames.

Other times Jamie would dream that he shrunk down so small he had to live with the rats, fighting to stay alive and screaming at the people above him. They would never notice him, never speak back or even look down. It made him feel even smaller.

Most of the time he didn’t dream at all.

Jamie let out a gasp of pain as another bolt of pain shot up his arm. His good (only) hand gripped just above the stump. The skin felt hot like he had a fever and if Jamie squeezed hard enough some of the pus would leak out through the bandages and he’d feel a little better for a bit. But then he needed to change the bandages and he was all out. He sacrificed the bottom of his shirt twice for the last two wrappings.

Jamie knew enough about how infections went. He didn’t know how the infection rotted the tissue and shot up into the bloodstream, he just knew that eventually the limb would go black and the whole thing would have to go unless he wanted to die. With the pain in his elbow, or the joint where the elbow used to connect to the rest of his arm, chopping off the entire arm seemed preferable even if that didn’t make any sense in the long run; just something to get the pain in his joint to stop.

Even in  the darkness he felt clammy and sweaty. Resting his head against the brick wall soothed him a little bit, the stone chilled from the shade and relieving against his burning skin. He hadn’t slept for more than a few hours ever since the incident, his pain and fever keeping him awake. Physically and mentally he was exhausted.

Maybe if he just closed his eyes for s couple minutes.

Panic shot through Jamie when he heard the side door to the bar creak open a couple feet away from him. The old thing looked ready to fall off its hinges and Jamie assumed no one went through it.

Careless mistake, and out in the wasteland you only ever made one of those.

_ Stupid boy. At least now you won’t have to suffer anymore. _

The man who opened the door, a presumed worker at the bar, stopped after only taking one step outside. His eyes were wide as he studied Jamie and Jamie stared right back, both of them tense and wary of the other.

“The hell happened to ya, kid?”

\-----

It was completely frustrating how little there was in the motel room that would cause a big enough explosion.

The first thing Junkrat inspected were the bags Roadhog had brought back. Though the big man was grocery shopping perhaps he had bought something unintentionally useful for Junkrat’s needs. Originally before going out Junkrat had given Roadhog a list (that he had written  _ himself _ ) of some parts necessary for making his bombs but Roadhog shook his head and shoved the small slip of paper into his pocket.

“We’re laying low.” He reminded, and because he squeezed his body through the doorway afterwards he got the final word on the matter.

Fat bastard.

After about half an hour of searching, not counting the time it took Junkrat to hop and crawl everywhere, the only things he could possibly use were two cold packs, a small box of matches, hairspray, and a shit ton of toilet paper he found stocked under the sink in the bathroom.

And with only one arm he could do fuck all with it. He needed some kind of slow burn at the beginning followed by a quick and flammable agent to get it really going once he was far enough away. Preferably one that could be rolled or thrown otherwise Junkrat would be looking at the last explosion of his short life, and that’s not how he wanted to go. 

_ Well… _

Okay so he wouldn’t mind going down in a ball of fire but not  _ this one.  _ Sure there was the rip tire but Junkrat wanted to save that for a very special or dire situation.

“Christ alive, what’s a fella gotta do for a tank of propane ‘round here?” Junkrat complained to a quiet room. He paused, waiting for the grunt of disapproval to tell him this was a bad idea.

Oh. Right.

Junkrat scanned the room one final time, trying to find anything that he may have missed before. A pair of fresh eyes would be damn useful but he was fresh out of those.

And that’s when he saw it. Those long, dubiously stained curtains billowing in the slight breeze in all their beige colored glory. The gears in Junkrat’s head began turning so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if smoke came out of his ears.

Oh yes, they would do just fine.

\-----

While riding around Roadhog found him skirting the edges of Florence every couple of hours or so, but he went no further than their borders.

It was stupid to hold out hope that Jamie would forgive him and Roadhog would like to convince himself that he was only sticking close by because when you took away everything else Jamie was his boss and paid him to be his bodyguard.

But then when you look at the fact that unless bottles of alcohol counted as payment Jamie had yet to pay Roadhog anything and yet he still stayed.

It was probably because he had somehow developed feelings for the little brat.

Junkrat was a headache on a good day and at his worst it seemed preferable to put his scrap gun to his head rather than to listen to Junkrat blather on and on about some inane topic. But then that annoying voice would say one of the million nicknames he had come up with, or those deft fingers would trace over the lines of Roadhog’s stomach tattoo when they laid down for the night, and then there were those rare moments when ‘Hog actually found a reason to compliment him and Junkrat’s entire face lit up like he was looking at God himself.

Damn it all if it didn’t get Roadhog every time.

There wasn’t a specific point Roadhog could think of for when he started to care for Jamie, it just happened. Roadhog wasn’t a man of many words, words were tricky and created unnecessary problems. No Roadhog was a man of action and that was how he expressed his feelings. When he held Jamie a little closer at night, when he would watch Jamie make his bombs just to make sure he was being careful, when the last bit of water in the canteens would go to Jamie even when Roadhog would have killed a man just for one drop of water.

It wasn’t as if any of that mattered now. The second Roadhog tried going back Junkrat would likely tell him to piss off again and this time to never come back; ‘Hog didn’t know how he’d handle hearing that so he stayed away.

Even in Italy it wasn’t hard to locate a bar, though the real trick was to find one seedy enough that his presence wouldn’t attract a lot of attention. Only when he finally came across a run down building with a small martini glass, complete with olive, depicted in flickering neon did Roadhog come to a stop.

Walking in at first caught people’s attention which wasn’t surprising in the least, after all, Roadhog was a big man. Looking around ‘Hog noticed the people inside seemed to be in just as much worse for wear as the bar itself; creaky floorboards, paint peeling off the walls, an old television placed up on the wall where the feed would occasionally cut off and on, and the unshakable smell of smoke that pervaded every crevice of the room. For a moment Roadhog thought someone might try to be tough and start something. But the patrons of the bar seemed to accept him as their own and turned their directions back to their conversations and drinks. They mostly spoke Italian which was fine, he didn’t need to be bothered by being forced to listen in on their conversations while he sat in silence.

There would probably be a lot of silence now.

Roadhog wasn’t sitting at the table for more than five minutes when a waitress, an older woman with spiked grey hair and a stained white tank top, sets down a beer right in front of him. Roadhog holds up two fingers and she understands, leaving to go retrieve more.

Four bottles of beer later and Roadhog felt as if he had been drinking water the entire time so he moved up to gin to try and get something out of the night.

_ “Feels good to get right shit-faced. Though ya must not get to do it often. I guess ya can’t help bein’ such a big heifer, it’s gonna take a barrel to get ya smashed eh ‘Hog?” _

That had been back in Junkertown, their first meeting. Junkrat had been reminiscing about the bar and how it was a shame that he couldn’t go back now that the bounty hunters knew it was where he liked to hang out. 

Would there even be bounty hunters all the way up here? Probably not for some time unless the police already resorted to putting a price on their heads instead of trying to capture the Junkers themselves.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to check.

Getting the bartender to change the channel required Roadhog to use his commanding voice, something a little deeper and with the right posturing it left no room for argument. With an annoyed huff the man reached under the bar to retrieve a small remote and pointed it at the television and after a few attempts to get the remote to work the tv switched over to a news channel. It was all in Italian from the words being said and written on the screen, but images would be enough. A mugshot, scenes of the decimated road, the warehouse, the motel… A new building fire.

Roadhog shot out of his chair and stepped closer to the television to get a better look at the tiny screen displayed to the left of the anchorwoman’s head. The low resolution made it hard to truly see any discernable details of building on fire but it wasn’t something Roadhog was going to leave to chance.

On his way out Roadhog grabbed the bottle of alcohol, his nerves demanded some sort of ease after all the strain that they had been put through. One hand gripped the bottle while the other started his bike, the loud roar of the engine echoing through the streets as he took off into the night. 

As he drove his nerves ate away at his insides, increasing with every passing second. At first he felt jittery, then his heart rate escalated, then there was that feeling of dread that sat deep in his gut like a heavy rock. Roadhog relied on his instincts every day to stay alive and never had they once failed him; he hoped that they were wrong now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnnnn!  
> We'll be coming up to a conclusion of this fic in a few chapters or so! It's been a joy to write it and you all have been so encouraging I don't see why I shouldn't make more! If there's any prompts you guys would like to see, let me know here or at my tumblr fatlittlefroge!


	14. Under a Starry Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When there's nothing else you at least have each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special notes at the beginning because the fic is done! :0 (technically)  
> We did it, kids! Oooooooooh my gosh this was such a new experience but I really loved it! I think you guys can expect more from me in the future and I even have some ideas for what they could be. Even so, if you guys would like to see me write something or just want to talk I'd love to hear from you! My tumblr is fatlittlefroge  
> If you're wondering why I say this fic is done without me posting it as complete is because there's gonna be a little somethin ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ) for an epilogue! But for all intents and purposes the story itself is over

_ The matches had been flimsy and hard to work with. After all the effort and time it took to move everything valuable out of the room (rip tire, duffle bag, food, mini bottles of alcohol from the fridge, mask) and crawl his ass over to the curtains Junkrat spent another five minutes at least trying to get one fucking match to light. _

_ Junkrat growled in frustration as the third match stick snapped in half under the flick of his thumb. He lost count years ago of all the matches he’d ever lit, struck to life with a quick swipe of his nail or brush against his prosthetic arm. Even one lit off his cheek when his stubble got long enough. “Fuckin’ piece of shit! Fuck is this made of, cardboard?” Junkrat snapped, tossing the offending item across the room. _

_ The box of matches contained only two more sticks and Junkrat was about ready to pretend to pray to some higher power to get one of them to light properly. _

_ Junkrat examined the new match pressed snugly in his fist. He brushed up and down the wood slowly with his thumb, transfixed with the small red tip that he envisioned exploding to life in a small burst of flame. Phosphorus, antimony sulphide, and potassium chlorate. He couldn’t remember where he learned the words or what they meant but he just knew them. They were chemicals with the capability to combust. And those chemicals came together into the small, red dot at the end of a stick which was the key to Junkrat’s salvation.  _

_ “Alright sweetie,” Junkrat took a deep breath. “Be good for me.” _

_ With a quick swipe of his thumbnail Junkrat struck the match and gasped when the end sparked and bursted into a tiny flame. _

_ “Oh! Shit! Yes!” Junkrat kicked his legs and laughed in pure delight. The fire continued to burn down the stick, getting dangerously close to the skin of Junkrat’s skin. Feeling the heat of the fire snapped Junkrat out of his glee, not because he was afraid of getting burnt but because the fire would die out soon afterwards. _

_ Holding the very end of the stick between his thumb and index finger Junkrat pressed the match to the bottom of the curtain, watching anxiously as the fire ate up the small wooden stick while the frayed thread at the bottom began to smoke, then glow, then finally catch flame just in time for the match to run out of space. _

_ The fire did quick work of the dry cloth, embers growing into large flames as it continued to eat away at the curtains. It spread to the ceiling next as flaming bits of curtain fell to the floor and ignited the carpeting. _

_ “Whoa,” Junkrat gasped as he had to quickly push himself out of the way to avoid a piece of ignited curtain. Looked like he would need to evacuate faster than he anticipated. _

_ As Junkrat started crawling (shut up, it was easier than hopping around like a crippled kangaroo) he could hear the fire building behind him. The dry plaster of the ceiling lit quickly, the flames rolling like waves to cover the new area. Smoke and embers rained from the sky and Junkrat could feel the small bites of pain along his back when any hot ashes or burning drywall landed on him. As if his ribs didn’t give him enough grief already.  _

_ Over the roar of the flames the shrill wailing of the fire alarm sounded and Junkrat was slightly surprised, the place was so shitty he half expected the alarm to be fake and just glued up on the ceiling to get safety inspectors off their ass. _

_ Junkrat sat up when he reached the door, gripping the doorknob with his good hand. But before he could leave ‘Rat casted one last look behind himself to admire his handiwork. Almost the entire room was on fire now thanks to the embers that fell off the ceiling and smoke hung low all around him though Junkrat’s lungs were used to the irritation it brought. Not bad considering he didn’t have any proper bombs on him but the next time he did something like this Junkrat resolved it would involve ten times the amount of explosives this current task had. Couldn’t have people think he was an arsonist when deep in his heart Junkrat knew he was a demolitionist to the core. _

Ten times nothing is ten, idiot.

_ Right, well technicalities aside he was going to make the next place go boom. Exploding buildings and raining rubble, end of story. _

_ “Well this has been fun, but it’s time to split.” _

_ Junkrat threw open the door. There was a flash and suddenly everything was hot. _

\-----

Arriving at the scene was risky, the fire  _ and  _ police department were already there scoping out the scene and trying to find the cause of the fire. Roadhog bet they could spend a year brainstorming and never come up with the source of the fire being a blond, nihilistic Australian Junker with an affinity towards destruction.

Currently the goal of what Roadhog was trying to find.

Most of the building had collapsed and the parts that remained standing were still smoking. The hoses required focus and care which in other words translated to a distraction for even Roadhog to slip behind the building and investigate the black wreckage for any sign that Junkrat had gotten out. It was completely like him to start something he couldn’t finish, but when it came to these sorts of things Junkrat usually knew what he was doing.

Or at least that’s what Roadhog hoped. Junkrat had been upset but surely he wouldn’t compromise his safety for some half baked plan to blow up a building simply as a stress relief.

Who the fuck was Roadhog kidding that’s exactly what Junkrat would do. When Roadhog found Junkrat he vowed to ring his skinny neck.

If he found Junkrat.

Roadhog shook his head to clear away that kind of thinking. He would find the little brat if it took him to the ends of the earth. Maybe there was something significant about that, but Roadhog didn’t have the time to dwell on it.

Quietly pushing around rubble of a burning building was not easy and with every still warm and damp piece of building Roadhog moved he found himself glancing up towards the flashing lights of the cars still parked out front. ‘Hog didn’t like being out in the open like this, especially without his mask. He felt vulnerable and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

After five minutes if searching there was nothing to be found. Then became ten, then twenty, thirty minutes of searching and the police had finally left but still no Jamie.

Those nerves from earlier were coming back full force now and gentle searching became desperate pushing and shoveling. Settled ash flew up into the air and charcoal covered Roadhog’s hands to turn them black as night. Roadhog could feel his throat tighten up and the cold feeling of dread shot through his body like a bullet.

“You son of a bitch,” Roadhog growled as he moved on to a new pile. Their room had been somewhere around this area hadn’t it? With the whole section of building collapsed it was hard to reference exactly where the dingey room had been. “If you died on me I’ll drag your ass back from hell to kill you myself.”

“Rack off.”

The weak voice startled Roadhog more than any scream out have. Roadhog turned towards the sound and noticed a hand peeking out from under a singed piece of drywall. With a deep breath and moderate show of strength the wall was pushed away to reveal Junkrat lying protectively on what appeared to be a pile of their belongings. The tips of his blond hair smoking like the building around him.

Roadhog grabbed Junkrat right under his arm and yanked him up forcefully. Junkrat let out an undignified squawking sound as he was lifted up to be eye level with ‘Hog, really eye level with him and Junkrat could see those dark brown eyes filled with anger.

“What the  _ fuck  _ were you thinking?” Roadhog snarled and shook Junkrat for emphasis. “You could have gotten yourself found! Killed! What if I wasn’t here, huh? What would you have done then? How many burning buildings have I pulled you out from?”

“It was backdraft, alright? Get off me!” Junkrat’s voice was hoarse from the smoke and he weakly kicked Roadhog in the gut. “Don’t wanna see your ugly mug ever again!”

“Shut up!” Another shake. “Do you know how worried I was? The fire was on the  _ news,  _ Jamison!”

Junkrat froze, his eyes going wide as he looked up at Roadhog. With the ash covering his body his amber eyes seemed to practically shine. “Ya… ya worried ‘bout me?”

Jamie looked so surprised at that and fuck if it didn’t play at Mako’s heart strings. “What the hell kind of question is that?” He mumbled, pressing Junkrat against him in a tight hug.

At first Junkrat didn’t do anything, he just hung limply in Roadhog’s arms. But as Roadhog started to release his grip on ‘Rat and let him down Junkrat threw his arms around him and buried his face in Roadhog’s shoulder. ‘Hog could feel the smaller man start to shake in his arms.

“I didn’t think ya would come back.” Just hearing his voice and Roadhog knew he was crying again.

“It’s my job to keep you safe.” 

Junkrat shook his head. “Nah. That ain’t it.” 

“No,” Roadhog conceded. “It’s not.”

\-----

Loading up the bike took some careful consideration and placement of everything. Junkrat sat carefully in Roadhog’s lap as they rode down the cobblestone streets of the city. Staying in Italy any longer would be foolish so the pair decided on France for their next choice of never ending pit stops. Australia was out of the question, there would be no real reason to return there until Junkrat needed to make good on his treasure. But that could wait.

When the night grew dark they decided to stop for the evening and set up camp out in a field near the highway. The tall grass was uncomfortable but provided decent enough cover when they were lying down.

Junkrat and Roadhog were next to each other, taking advantage of their shared body heat but not close enough for either of them to touch. It was odd, Roadhog had grown accustom to Junkrat practically draping his body on top of him when they slept and now the other man felt miles away.

The barrier between them was invisible but so intense it was almost palpable. Unspoken questions hung in the air. Good thing Junkrat liked to talk.

“If ya knew it was me,” He began softly. “Why did ya bother with all this? Ghosts of the past ain’t fun to be ‘round. Though i guess I don’t gotta tell ya none of that.”

“I felt… responsible.” Roadhog admitted. His mask had been put back on before they took off for France. Seeing Junkrat pull it out from his duffle bag and hand it over did something to his insides that made them feel like mush.

“I ain’t an ankle biter no more, ‘Hog. Could have taken care of myself.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

“Fuck off, I’m tryin’ to have a heart to heart here.” A pause, more silence. “Do ya still feel responsible now? Is that why ya wanna stay?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever feel  _ not  _ responsible. But it’s not the only reason.”

Junkrat giggled and rolled to his side even though his ribs painfully twinged in protest. “Ya fancy me, eh? Can’t say I blame ya. I’m pretty irresistible if I do say so myself.”

Roadhog grunted. “You’re the only one saying it.” That earned him a smack on his arm. Considering the circumstances Roadhog tolerated the action.

“Ya, well, I like ya too ya fat pig. But ya already heard my speech before so I ain’t sayin’ it again.”

Roadhog turned his head to look at Junkrat. Through the mask their eyes met. “I cut off your arm. Even then you still,”

Junkrat cut him off. “Listen, that ain’t shit I’m ever gonna take lightly. Chances are I’m gonna hold that over your head when I want somethin’ from ya.” A shrug. “Dunno. I guess it’s hard to imagine ya that way when I’ve only ever known ya to be another way. Like, there was a Roadhog before we actually met an’ now there’s the ‘Hog I know. Does that make sense?”

Another shrug from Roadhog this time, and he reached out for Jamie. The other man let himself be dragged close until Jamie was pressed up against Roadhog’s side with the big lug’s arm wrapped around him.

“Nothing about our lives makes sense.” Was Roadhog’s answer.

Junkrat laughed loudly, wiggling around with how giddy he was. “Truer words have never been spoken!”

A hum of agreement from Roadhog as Junkrat slowly calmed down, his fit of giggling slowing to small chuckles.

“Tell ya what,” Junkrat perked his head up. “If ya pay for my new limbs an’ upkeep, I might jus’ start thinkin’ ‘bout forgivin’ ya.”

It was Roadhog’s turn to chuckle. “Deal.”

Skinny fingers tapped lightly against Roadhog’s chest. “Kiss on it?”

Mako pushed the rubber mask up enough to rest on his nose, exposing the lower half of his face. Jamie grinned devilishly and shoved the mask off the rest of the way until it slid off behind Mako’s head; before Mako could even argue chapped lips were pressed against his in an urgent kiss. It was sloppy and Jamie would keep on pulling away only to quickly plant another kiss on Mako’s fat and scarred lips.

Oh well, there would be plenty of other kisses to teach him better.


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year or two after they first met  
> I promised filth and you will get filth! (and maybe a little feelings)

“Mate, if ya know the way so much why don’t ya take the lead?” Junkrat shouted behind them as the pair tore down the street, their arms full of cash in both sacks and wads that would occasionally leave a trail of loose bills behind them. 

The bank had been the most recent hit on their long streak through Europe and with every job they only got better and better which was great for them and terrible for everyone else. The Junkers even managed to leave before the cops showed up which was a miracle all on its own.

But they were losing their lead as Junkrat led them down  _ another _ back street with no outlet forcing them to turn back around  _ again.  _ By the third accident Roadhog voiced his annoyance for the issue.

“Look,” Junkrat continued as they ran, because of course Junkrat still had the breath in him to talk and run. His dead corpse would probably still chatter and laugh away as it was being dumped into the earth for burial. “We got away. Now I don’t know ‘bout your piggy ass but my leg is killin’ me. Can we slow down yet?”

“A few more blocks.” Roadhog’s normal, deep voice was winded and weaker. He wanted to stop, but at this point it was easier to keep going rather than to stop for a break and start again.

Their hideaway was a hollowed out bakery, more specifically the back staff room of a hollowed out bakery. Initially when they passed by looking for a good spot to camp out Roadhog’s eye had been caught by the cute paintings of bread and sweets that decorated the dusty window. It was enough to stop the bike and take a closer look. Junkrat laughed at Roadhog’s fascination but was already busy picking the lock of the door.

“Alright ya softie,” Junkrat had grinned as the door clicked softly and creaked open. “We’ll stay here.”

Now they were back and Junkrat kicked open the door so they could come barreling through. 

As they dropped their money into the back room with the rest of their belongings Junkrat let out a long and contented sigh. “Oh man, I wish we coulda stayed longer! The way that steel curled after my explosion...” Junkrat brought his fingers to his lips and kissed them. “A real beaut! Think we can slip on back and get the security tapes later?”

Roadhog grunted as he settled down next to their bags. He was still gasping for breath and even if he did want to speak he didn’t think he was capable of it at the moment. Didn’t matter, Junkrat always understood. They weren’t going back and they didn’t carry any kind of video player. Unnecessary weight.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t need ‘nother one of your lectures. Now hold still.” Junkrat growled and walked up next to Roadhog, pulling a canister of oxygen from one of his pockets. It was smaller than the ones Roadhog carried on his own person but they would do the job in a pinch. Junkrat insisted that he carry some just in case and at the time Roadhog was both surprised that Junkrat could think that far ahead and that he cared that much.

Deft fingers unscrewed the top of the canister and held it against one of the filters of Roadhog’s mask. As if the task were some kind of chore Junkrat leaned his weight against Roadhog as they waited for the tank to empty. Roadhog didn’t even budge.

The gentle hiss of escaping oxygen slowly died off until the tank was empty and Roadhog could no longer feel the soft breeze through his mask. Only then did Junkrat pull the canister away and toss it carelessly to the other end of the room. Roadhog hummed his appreciation as his heart rate settled to a more relaxing pace and every breath stopped burning.

“I hate running.” Roadhog stated.

“Really?” Junkrat replied with a forced incredulous tone. “What gave it away? The gas mask? The constant bike ridin’? Maybe the fact ya weigh one metric ton!” 

That earned an offhanded smack to the head with one hand as the other reached over for the piles of money. It needed counting and Roadhog wouldn’t trust Junkrat with fifty cents let alone what was probably over a million dollars. No telling what the blond would weasel away in his pockets and buy on the rare times Roadhog wasn’t looking. At worst it would probably be a case of uranium and at best it would be coffee, and if anyone had been around Jamie after he had gotten caffeine into him they knew even that was a bad situation.

Junkrat relaxed next to Roadhog on the floor, settling himself to rest against the larger body next to him. Well, as relaxed as Junkrat could get. Skittering fingers and drawing invisible patterns and words against Roadhog’s leg occupied Junkrat for maybe about three minutes.

“Fuck!” Junkrat exclaimed as he finally reached his boiling point. “Can’t we go out? My blood’s still racin’ from the job!”

Roadhog didn’t look up from the money he was counting. “Too dangerous.”

“We jus’ robbed a friggen bank!”

“And now we’re hiding out so the cops don’t find us.”

Junkrat groaned and dramatically threw himself across Roadhog’s lap. “This is fuckin’ torture, mate! I’m gonna die!”

Roadhog hummed and set the latest ten thousand dollars aside. “Makes my job easier.” He said idly.

Junkrat threw his arm up to smack listlessly against Roadhog’s chest. That was how Junkrat communicated, through endless shouting or outbursts of violence. Though the latter was just a common trait of any Junker. Still, it wouldn’t do well for Junkrat to think he could get away with that kind of thing with ‘Hog.

“Do that again and you’ll lose that arm again.” Was Roadhog’s deep toned warning. It didn’t get him more than a muttered response but slowly the hand slid down Roadhog’s chest and down his stomach. Down… Down…

Warm fingers forced themselves into Roadhog’s pants and squeezed lightly. Roadhog started and made a choking sound that he would later deny. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Roadhog snapped as he looked down at Junkrat. The younger man was prostrated on Roadhog’s lap, glancing over his shoulder with such a wicked grin that would make a nun blush.

“Ain’t it obvious?” Junkrat started moving his hand again, his fingers playing with the edge of Roadhog’s pants and dipping just underneath.

“You can’t just shove your hand down people’s pants.”

“Not doin’ it to everybody. Jus’ you.” Junkrat clarified lightly, resting his hand on Roadhog’s belt. Twitchy fingers ran along the worn leather. “C’mon, don’t ya wanna? Last time we did somethin’ was, like, Switzerland! Besides, I know how much a successful job gets ya goin’.”

Roadhog pushed Junkrat off his lap with a forceful shove, not caring when Junkrat landed painfully to the floor. “Money first. Then we’ll see.”

Junkrat sneered at Roadhog. “ _ Then we’ll see,”  _ He mimicked in the deepest voice he could manage. “Don’t think so.”

Roadhog was back to counting the money as Junkrat slunked away to the corner of the room to sulk by himself. In the silence of the room ‘Hog could hear Junkrat shuffling around behind him, presumably tinkering with his left over grenades. It didn’t really matter to ‘Hog what Junkrat was up to as long as he was out of his hair and there wasn’t the smell of anything burning. Maybe Junkrat was taking inventory of the cherry bombs he usually kept in his pockets.

At least that’s what Roadhog had thought at first until that first moan slipped from Junkrat’s lips.

The sound of it cut right through Roadhog’s focus like a hot knife, ringing in his ears in the empty quiet that followed. Just as ‘Hog thought he imagined the whole thing it happened again, this time even louder than before.

Yep that was definitely a moan, a breathy whine that Roadhog could akin to dark and cold nights when Junkrat’s mouth was pressed right up against his ear. Roadhog loved getting those sounds out from Jamie, hitting all those right spots that elicited all kinds of noises. It reminded ‘Hog of some kind of instrument that only he knew all the notes to.

“Roadie,” Junkrat wasn’t above begging in these types of situations. “Don’t ya want me still?” That was just playing dirty.

The cheer that came from Junkrat when Roadhog set the money aside and stood was almost enough to make him change his mind and let the brat sort himself out on his own. Almost. 

When Roadhog turned around he was greeted to the sight of Junkrat only a few feet away rather than in the corner like he previously thought. Junkrat had completely stripped himself down and sat back on the dirty floor without a care, his leg prosthetic abandoned beside him alongside his shorts and harness.

One hand, his real one, was stroking himself at a languid pace, favoring the head of his cock by rubbing his thumb all around it. Roadhog could only blame Jamie’s youth for how he could get hard that fast. In his other hand was a bottle of lube Junkrat had swiped from a gas station however many months ago; it was getting low but there was enough for at least one more official go. The way Junkrat casually waved it around as he stroked himself was clearly meant to be taunting, and for once Roadhog found himself too weak of a man not to be baited by it.

“You pretty little thing,” Roadhog sauntered over to Junkrat slowly, unclipping his mask and dropping it to the floor with a dull thud. With his face free Junkrat could see the way Roadhog’s eyes raked over his body. “Couldn’t control yourself, could you?”

Jamie was practically vibrating with excitement and it was hard not to just let himself go right then and there. “How can I when I’m starin’ at ya all the time? All big an’ strong.” Junkrat squeezed himself. “Revs my engines.”

Roadhog wrinkled his nose. Dirty talk with Jamie was always a hit and miss. 

“Why don’t you put that hand to better use and get ready for me?” Roadhog suggested with a slight smirk. “I think it’s time you remember your place.”

Prepping to accommodate Roadhog was a tedious task and by the end of the whole ordeal Roadhog occasionally considered finding some kind of plug to keep Junkrat open. He mentioned the idea to Junkrat once, and that had gotten him in such a tizzy that it started a round two only a few minutes after their first one. In the end they never found a place that sold something like that and had to settle for their fingers.

Undressing was hard when Junkrat was right there opening himself up with his fingers. They way his eyelids fluttered and his mouth hung open to allow every small gasp and whimper to slip out whenever his fingers brushed against that one spot inside him. He was beautiful. Roadhog never dropped his overalls so quickly.

Roadhog sat down in front of Junkrat and rubbed his own cock slowly. “You’re doing so good, Jamie. One more finger.”

Junkrat gasped as he slipped in his fourth finger, his whole body shaking. The free hand he had was braced on the floor as the rest of his body was slowly melting into a pool of pleasure. Using almost all of his fingers might have been excessive to some but it was necessary if Roadhog didn’t want to hurt Jamie. The burn of the stretch from his cock was bad enough as it was and even though Junkrat praised the feeling a million times it would only take one rushed job to tear something and that would be the end of that, which neither of them wanted.

“Please Mako.” Junkrat bucked his hips up desperately into the air, his hard cock bobbing helplessly. His eyes were barely open now, that unearthly orange reduced to small rings around his pupils which were blown wide with lust. “I need more. I need ya to stuff me ‘til I pop.”

“I can do that.” ‘Hog promised, dumping the rest of the lube on to his cock. Junkrat must have kept it in his pocket because it was still warm. “You’ve done enough. Lay back.”

When his fingers slipped free Junkrat let out a breathy laugh, his nerves building in anticipation for what was soon to come. Complying to Roadhog’s order (one of those rare circumstances which he would) Junkrat laid himself back on the ground, spreading his legs as wide as they would go in attempt to accommodate Roadhog’s body.

Roadhog braced his hands on Jamie, one on the back of his thigh on his left leg right beneath the underside of Jamie’s knee, and the other on Jamie’s side. Big hands encompassed pale skin and Roadhog took a moment to savor the image. Jamie looked so small and ruined, his body flushed against that constant layer of grime he always wore and dick slowly dripping with precum down on his stomach.

“Don’t be a tease,” Junkrat growled, though he was too far gone for his tone to have any ferocity. “Get on with it!”

Mako huffed and jabbed his hips forward, bumping himself blindly against Junkrat. He could feel his cock brush up against Junkrat’s balls, earning a gasp from the younger man. Roadhog set up a rhythm, rocking himself up and down while Jamie was practically thrashing in Roadhog’s firm grip to try and get more friction against the lubricated cock. Growled threats turned less coherent and more into broken and needy sobs.

That was the sweet spot.

“Such a slut.” Roadhog growled, pulling himself away and back again until he finally felt the head of his dick come into contact with Jamie’s hole. “Bet you used to let anyone do this to you. But not anymore.You wanna know why?”

Roadhog snapped his hips forward and in one fluid motion he sunk all the way in to the hilt. Jamie practically screamed and his back arched right off the floor.

Roadhog waited. One breath. Two breaths. Wait for the sign in case Jamie wanted out.

Nothing came and Roadhog took his cue to start moving. “Because you’re  _ mine. _ ”

Junkrat’s wails were echoing off the old bakery walls. With every thrust he was jostled back and forth against the hard floor. Roadhog knew Junkrat would take pride in any remaining marks. 

“No one can touch you like this,” Roadhog huffed. “You belong to me, and I don’t share. Property. Of. Roadhog.” Each word was emphasized with a hard thrust.

“Y-Your’s, mate. All your’s.” Junkrat managed to gasp, his hands struggling to find purchase against the ground.

Mako grinned and lifted Junkrat carefully until both of them were in a seated position. At this new angle with Junkrat spread over his lap Mako had better leverage and could hit deeper than before. Junkrat felt it on the very first thrust, his whole body seizing up as Roadhog hit his prostate. The added pressure felt incredible.

“So tight. I outta wreck you, keep you nice and open for the next time you’re useful for a good fuck.” Roadhog grunted, using his arms now to propel Jamie up and down. Junkrat just took it with a distant smile on his face. A small whimper and nod were the only indications Junkrat was even hearing a word Roadhog was saying to him.

Roadhog watched as sweat dripped down Junkrat’s chest and ‘Hog couldn’t resist leaning in to chase it’s trail with his broad tongue. Junkrat tasted like dirt and salt but Roadhog hardly cared. Not when ‘Hog bit down on the juncture of Junkrat’s neck enough to break the skin.

That was the final push, the last rush of sensation that tipped Jamie over the edge. He came with a startled shout, repeating Mako’s name over and over like a mantra. But Mako wasn’t done with him yet.

Junkrat’s skinny arms wrapped themselves loosely around Roadhog’s neck like a lifeline as he continued to thrust. Junkrat was soft and there wasn’t a chance he would get hard again soon enough, so all he could do was let Roadhog guide his overstimulated body towards the bigger man’s own release.

“So good for me,” Roadhog rubbed his cheek against Junkrat’s neck. “So good.”

That familiar coil in ‘Hog’s gut was getting closer and closer with every slam of his hips and his lost rhythm in seeking out the end. The orgasm rushed through him like a tidal wave and he buried himself deep inside of Jamie as he came. Maybe it was some kind of instinct, maybe it was because he loved the little whines Jamie made when he felt Mako fill him with his hot release.

Mako just held Junkrat like that for a few minutes, both of them catching their breaths as postsex exhaustion swept in. Carefully Mako laid them back on the ground, pulling out of Jamie and setting the smaller man beside him.

In those moments there was always a level of uncertainty with Jamie. Going from the extreme high of an orgasm guided his resulting emotions one of two ways. He would either ride that high until he fell asleep or he would rapidly spiral downwards into a shaking mess in desperate need of attention.

The first time it happened it caught Roadhog completely off guard. One second he left to get a wash cloth to wipe themselves down and the next he found Jamie curled up in a tight ball under the sheets of the motel bed and sobbing silently. Roadhog used to wonder where Junkrat went in times like those, but now all he had to understand was that Jamie needed him.

A small sniffle pierced the quiet of the room and it looked like it would be one of those nights. 

Roadhog was efficient with it now, and he turned on his side to gather up Jamie in his arms. Instantly Jamie cuddled up to Roadhog and buried his face in ‘Hog’s broad chest. Roadhog guessed the pressure of his weight was something of comfort, much like some kind of special blanket to a child.

“Sorry,” Junkrat’s voice was weak. “I know it’s dumb.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Was Mako’s reply. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Skinny hands dug into Roadhog’s skin. “Why?”

“You know why.”

Junkrat breathed through his nose and exhaled shaky breaths through his mouth. He was getting a better handle on it more and more each time. “Guess so… Mako?”

“Yes?”

“Love ya.”

Mako stared at the wall across from them, his eyes following the lazy patterns of the printed wallpaper. Then there was Jamie. It was hard to get a proper look at him from that angle but it was enough to peek down at his head, blond hair haphazardly pointing in every direction.

“Yeah,” Mako held on to Jamie a little bit tighter. “Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaand done. Figures my longest chapter is one dedicated mostly for porn orz  
> All in all this fic was a delight to write! Expect more from me!

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh this is my first fic I hope it's decent! I'd love to hear feedback about what you like or what you think I could do different! I'll add more chapters eventually


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